The roar, the bustle, tight cobbled roads unlike the dirt paths of the town over -Calico Town was a fundamentally different beast than the rustic town Leon has become familiar with. There are no dirt roads here, no fountain left to rot, no lamppost without a flame. It's pristine, almost sterile. It had to be, or else it wouldn't be the jewel of trade it is today.

There had to be a whole Legion of pokemon in this town taking shifts and making sure each corner - every inch of the town shined like the setting sun. There were three observable groups. Workers who wore red bandannas were Fire and Electric types responsible for lighting the streets. Blues were water-types who's powerful jets of water peeled off Calico's precious stonework. Greens are the grass-types who trimmed bushes and cultivated gardens of moss. He hasn't seen any berry farms for them to tend to; must be in the local fields.

These workers are the only that he's seen by walking down a couple of the town's streets, there has to be numerous more busy-bodies he can't see. All working together to the mutual task of keeping their town presentable for the merry travelers who fill their coffers with coins. The Sundown Guild, from the little he knows about it, could have its own sector in the actual town itself responsible for handing out these duties to Calico's citizens. If it's a job coming right from the guild who runs the half of the show (the trade families are the other), then it has to pay fairly well. Said workers will be spending their coin in the town itself. This coin goes to traders whom the guild gets their tithe from allowing it to circulate like the phases of the moon.

Good business, good pay, the safety of the Sundown Guild and a well-kept town. It'd be silly not to live here.

Seeing the marvelous stone buildings cloistered along the wide river, flowers flourishing along its streets, docks for both fairing pokemon and watercrafts, bridges arching over the soothing waters. Absorbing it at once was overpowering. The life as an independent caravan guard has brought him to Calico many times before, he's even gone upstream to meet fellows from Lapis at Halfway Rock, but few sights come as close to this town at dusk.

A Smeargle stands on one of Calico's countless bridges. He leans against the curved balustrade while the Prinplup with him peers through it, their gazes set towards the spire set in the falling sun. The sky is lit purple by the dwindling light, and a beautiful shadow overtakes the water, it shimmers like a mirror. All along the riverside lanterns begin to light one by one, flickering like swarms Volbeat.

He has seen such a swarm only once in his life. One night his caravan saw them in the sky, and used them as guides through the dark. They lead them all the way to Halfway Rock. There he watched them flutter off into the distance. Leon sketched a piece of them to remember them by, they deserved to be thanked for showing him there was more to see in this world.

Words would destroy this moment.. Just take it in. Leon breathes in - when he does everything melts around him. There are only the lights in the streets, the sun, the lighthouse caught in its glare, and the sound of the river below. Even the boy, who has been so boisterous every step of their journey is struck silent with awe.

The sun will set along the horizon, soon it'll pass the tower. Leon counts in his head.

One, Two, Three.

A violet flare, like a second sun, erupts atop the stone pillar. It wavers and shifts until it settles as an intense white beacon. It's the flame which guides those to Calico Town, the Dusk Continent's light in the darkest season. This fire is the heart of Calico - The Sundown Guild.

The lighthouse isn't the whole of the Guild as much more of it hides deep under the Isola. Unless there's a hidden pathway, it's only accessible when the tides are lower. There's an overlook of sorts where the tidal bridge begins. It's where they'll wait if they can't find their Bird.

After what felt like ages, the silence is broken by a bedazzled Prinn

"Woah.."

"Haven't seen anything to top this." his words are hard to speak, something inside him still fights for silence. "I'm not like our Braviary, but these are the few moments where I wish I had a drink in my hand. Watch the sun go down; forget everything."

Those words haunt him the second he spoke them. What does he want to forget? What could he possibly regret?

"Forget…what?" Prinn looks up, voice full of care and innocence.

"No idea." He tries to explain. "I have regrets - I'd say every one of us does, but my mistakes have helped make me into who I am. I think I'd lose who I am if I were to suddenly forget everything. The thought scares me to the bone."

Too close, he almost sounded like Braviary for a moment. There's no reality where he's as bad as Braviary is. Drinking in front of the boy would feel - if he's honest with himself - a bit pathetic. Prinn's interested in the Scholar's, so of course he's done the Enigma Wine trick a few times. He's put up with Braviary, he's used to seeing fellows drink.

There was nothing to worry about.

"Oh, I thought it'd be about…" Prinn restarts his approach. "You know when we first met, Leon, when we were in the back checking out the wine shed for you?"

"Yes?"

"You never elaborated on those thieves you were so worried about, you know who I'm talking about right? Not our wine thieves, but the ones you've dealt with before."

Then it hits him, out from the clear blue sky right into his gut. A sensation of bitterness overtakes him as he suddenly struggles to say something. He swallows hard.

"It's old news, Prinn. They're not the ones we're looking for, I can promise you..."

"What about the winery they robbed at some point?" Prinn pressures. "You said they were going for the hive, the source of all the good stuff. I think you said Oran-stuff...maybe there's people there."

It's not important - why would it ever be important? He wasn't even there. Unless his former caravanner friends were up to chat after he abandoned them, provided they're still even around, there's nothing he can say about this matter. So, don't say a word.

"Did you make a mistake?".

"Yes, I did." Leon finally answers. "I wasn't there when the caravan got robbed. The winery was after my time. I had nothing to do with the situation. Since then I haven't even got to see or hear about who robbed my former caravan, I only know that it happened after I had left them."

His light, and skills with battle at the time would not have made a difference. They were likely outnumbered, caught by surprise, then beaten to a pulp. It was better to move on from this, just as they likely have. Wounds will always heal.

"Since we're talking about ourselves, how about you?" Leon steered the conversation to Prinn. "Braviary had asked you if you were from here, you answered No. You never told us where you're from."

"Oh, easy. I'm from…"

An odd expression befalls Prinn. He looks away from Leon, the Lighthouse's marvelous white flame lights up his face and his smile returns.

"Not from around here, for sure. Just an egg when my parents brought me over, Uncle raised me in Lapis Town. He's kinda my dad."

Okay, at least he's not an amnesiac. Goodness, he wouldn't know what to do with two of them. This all still comes as a surprise to Leon

"You don't know your parents?" Leon asks. "If you knew where you came from, you could pay the post to find them for you. It might cost you, but with the cut you'll get after we're done with this wine problem it should be a non-issue."

"Eh, I dunno. If they left me as an egg at my Uncle's then maybe they didn't want to be found" Prinn chuckles. "Really weird, huh? Uncle never talks about them."

Leon has too little information to make any inclusions. He'd know the answer already if Prinn said his parents used to be explorers, but it's best not to push it. Who knows how touchy this subject can be for a kid like him.

"Has he ever talked about them? What they were like, were they explorers of some kind?" Leon leans against the rail, water ebbs below him. "You don't need to answer if it's not okay with you."

"It's okay, Eileen asks me all the time about them. I don't know much about them because Uncle never tells me anything." Prinn scratches his chin. "There was this one time he mentioned something, it was right around when I started to take this guild stuff seriously too. I was busy with research, I wanted to know what skills Adventurers needed to be successful. Cartography was one of them, it sounded like it'd take me to the coolest places so I picked it. When I told Uncle about it he said 'it's what they'd want'. I think he never meant to say that."

"Since then, I got really serious about Cartography…that's why I wanted to join you guys."

With a pensive sigh, Prinn stares at the horizon.

Prinn's a good kid, a little too excitable, but undeniably talented for his age. Cartography is a useful skill for all manner of adventurers. Why the Scholar's Guild had yet to accept Prinn is exclusively the fault of guild culture. He can't speak on behalf of the Sundown Guild, but he knows how tiresome it is to join the Scholars. The memory is still fresh.

His guild - The Scholars, want people to prove their abilities as skilled individuals. These qualities they believe are best demonstrated by "lower-level" jobs like what they're on right now. It's their way to filter out the unmotivated chaff, thereby thinning out the application process altogether.

Upon completion of their tedious task, whatever it is, they're then put on a list of those who followed through on their work. Their application is reviewed again by the Guildmaster who searches the applicants for skills and abilities they would find useful for their bookish guild. There's no way to predict for what silly reason Rattata doesn't choose you. Many fail on this step through no fault of their own, but if chosen, and if there's a bed for you to sleep on, then you'll finally be allowed the permission to do even more work for him.

The mountain of information the Guild hoards to itself makes the arduous process worth all the misery. There's too much here to allow just anyone to put their greasy mittens all over their archive. They want guild members who will make use of their knowledge to further their guild's and their own passions. This is what Guildmaster claims.

There's more to their stringent policy than the whim of their leader. This is a response, it had to be. It's got to be the Roserade. He's too bitter, more bitter than the adventure-loathing Braviary they swept into their quest to uncover badges. A rotten truth writhes beneath Roserade's mask which could threaten to eat apart the guild. Pointless bickering won't be the death of Leon's work ever again, not on his watch!

"You handled yourself in a dungeon okay, better than Braviary." Leon reassures. A part of him still wants to knock the daylights out of the feathered buffoon. "You'll be accepted, I'm sure. Did you write down a map of it?"

"Yeah, I did." Prinn doesn't shove it in his face. "It's not very good. A few details are missing, there's stuff to write about the area it's in, I'm still working on it y'know?"

The cold, the way the trees warped into passages, everything seemed to melt away beyond the treeline. Memories of the dreadful place flash in The Smeargle's mind as a shiver slithers down his back. If they had come there as three competent battlers, if they had simply accounted for it in the first place, it would not have been the nightmare he remembers it as.

"Don't let me stop you." Leon groans. "Are you serious about sparring with Braviary, though?"

"Yeah, of course I am! We just need some Reviver Seeds in case any of us get knocked down pretty bad." Prinns steps back from the ledge. The street lamps guide his attentive eyes to the east where an abundance of lights stands. "The market looks like it could be open. Past it where mail pokes do their things, right?. We gotta go there anyways, so why don't we stop by the market to get a reviver seed or two? Maybe an orb? Your choice."

Leon reaches for his carrying bag out of habit. He stops himself. Doesn't Braviary have most of his coins right now? If they buy those seeds, which are most assuredly marked up for the guildies around here, they may have to make the trek home on empty stomachs. There's no guarantee a miscreant like Braviary's gonna stay true to his word, they might be broke after this.

"Can you afford them?" Leon asks, "I'm tight on budget, the most I can buy is a half-decent orb."

"I may have got enough for Reviver Seed, I don't know yet." Prinn shrugs. "We should look at Orbs too, maybe we can get an Escape Orb? Aren't those supposed to be very useful?"

An Escape Orb on hand would keep them out of the clutches of a dungeon, so yes, very useful. Leon rewards Prinn a nod.

"Oh, great! And if we don't have time to fight, um, I can always keep that thing on hand just in case I don't have a big bird to take Energy Balls for me." Prinn shivers. "It was a Bayleef, right? That thing scared the heck out of me. It looked weird! Smelled funny too..."

Wait a minute. Leon lifts an eyebrow.

"I heard dungeon pokemon are strange. What did it smell like?"

"Like the ocean. A strong smell, like salt, was stuck to their body." Prinn's eyes flutter. A connection just formed in his head. "T-the way it moved. It sprung right up at us - you should've seen it!"

"I did see it. I put the thing down."

"You did?" He squawks. "Wow! How'd you do it, could you teach me?"

He's flattered, but it wasn't his trick which felled the feral Bayleef. It was a friend's trick. He merely borrowed it, captured it in his pigments. Some people can't learn certain techniques, while others are born with them. Smeargle were the outliers. All were thieves.

"Blocked the first attack then countered with a Shadow Ball. I think Tail Glow does make it more potent. I hit it once then ran to safety" Leon recounts. "Couldn't teach it to you myself, you'll have to ask Froslass."

"Isn't she just the Guild's Librarian? I hear she's old, but is she a battler too?"

Funny to mention; he's never asked her age. It seems rude to ask a ghost-type given everyone knows phantoms tend to be more aged overall. He could try reading up on it. Only it'd be obvious why he's reading about ghosts, and she never leaves there...

"Must be. I watched her throw one once, it was to show they didn't affect normal types like me or the Guildmaster. I told her it looked useful, so I had her try it on me, and…" Leon makes a snapping motion. "I learned it right then."

"Woah really, like that?"

"I'm a Smeargle, Prinn." Leon exhales. "I take moves from others, because in spite of our species' brush tails, we're quite uncreative. Knew Tail Grow for the longest, Shadow Ball's the newest. I haven't decided on my fourth. It's not too urgent for me."

"Cool." Prinn wracks his little brain. "Bubble and Shadow Ball are both ranged, right? If you want, maybe we could…"

"Practice? Sure."

Prinn practically glows with excitement.

"I can pick you up to speed for free, anytime after we'll be placing bets." The glow dims, but Leon can still see the traces of Prinn's dumb smile. "It helps. I only learned to land Shadow Balls once my wallet felt the hurt."

"So…paid lessons? Right?"

Leon chuckles, his wallet already feels heavier.

"They're free if you beat me."

Prinn taps his tube once. Just by touching it he knows what's in there, what exactly he was carrying, how much of it he can lose on a gamble. Sudden confidence surges over the boy.

"You bet? As long as I get a training round, then you'll be the one paying me!" Prinn giggles, "When can we start?"

Good question, because this job has become a whole mess. The danger and length of what's supposed to be the boy's first job. There's no guessing what comes next. If chasing this Merchant brings out of town again, refreshing this boy on battling might make a difference. But where would they train in a town like this? The guild, at a Paid dojo perhaps? They don't have the connections or the money for either. He'll need to keep his eyes peeled.

"I'll let you know." He flicks his tail towards the road. "If we were to stand here any longer, the shops will be closed by the time we get there. We should go."

Prinn lets out a meep of acknowledgement as he waddles to the other side of the Bridge and beyond. Leon follows closely. For once he gets a break from being the walking torch as numerous flames light the pristine town. The one over by the guild is omniscient, a constant glow in his peripheral vision cast across the fields of stone. It grows brighter and brighter with every step the Sun makes over the Horizon. When night sets upon them only the Sundown Guild shall stand.

A Gogoat wheels a fanciful cart of berries, a Braixen uses its wand to stoke the fires of the lamp posts, a Buneary hops past them with a bag stuffed full of urgent mail. This place doesn't rest. As the shops there's still much work to do. Supplies still needed to be run, a town had to be kept pretty. He's surprised he hasn't run into someone from the Dawnbreak Guild yet. Calico is their town after all. Given his history and knowledge of the guild, they might be all off on jobs at this moment - guarding caravans as they travel to obscure settlements all across the Dusk Continent. There's bound to be guildies in the tower to keep the lights on. Some might even be down by the watercrafts, greeting strangers with smiles, telling them all about their secured services.

Or they could all be asleep, or undertaking ordinary Guild jobs. Leon often forgets about the dungeon-delving side of things, the rescuing, the exploring. Adventuring has a rich history, preserved through fire-side tales and tavern rumors, and the rare published journals. The guilds do keep their own records of course. Good luck to anyone who wants to read those.

Traders were the most important. Without them these fellows would be forced to crawl through dungeons to get their supplies and there's only so much one pokemon can carry without weighing themselves down in such dangerous environments. A Guild Town needs a guild to be called such, it needs a market for it to last.

Scoria's market, when they reached it, was expectedly vacant. The open plaza with all its dozens of plots painted onto the ground were unoccupied save for three stubborn vendors. It was late, who could blame them? Out of the shops boxing the square, the only one getting any show at this dead hour was what looked to be a tavern built into a basement. A sign outside reads "Hollow Dreams Tavern" - how grim!

There was no chance they'd ever find equipment this late. Unless their intention is to forgo their mission to embark on a dungeon dive, fresh un-preserved berries won't serve them well. The bread cart in the back manned by a Farfetch'd who seemed to be drumming on pots lids looked as useful to them as the berry cart. What's left was the odd tent closest to the riverside. Its violet-blue cloth intentionally stands in stark contrast to the marble-like craftsmanship of Calico Town as if it had no right to be here, or had come from far away. An inviting light poured out from behind its doors. It didn't seem to be closed.

Prinn shoots Leon a quizzical look. The Smeargle shrugs.

"Don't see why not." Leon says.

No noise came from the tent, no greetings, not even signage. The fabric did look unique. It had little polygonal shapes embroidered all along the edges of the tent, some pink; most of them white. Packaged in with this peculiar flair was the faint smell of lilacs from behind the curtains. Bought from a member of the Aromatisse Family - if Leon had to guess.

Off putting didn't describe it. Neither of them seem bothered by this place, they felt more intrigued than unnerved. So why was Leon just standing there? What was stopping him from waltzing right in? Courtesy, or a hunch something might be off? Any ordinary tradesman would have closed doors by now. The only reason to operate this late was to catch wanderers like them or idiots from the tavern who're down on their luck. This business, from the outside peering in, made no sense.

Prinn planted himself like a statue determined not to be the first of them to step inside. Held at the end of an imaginary spear, Leon's forced to enter first. He gingerly raised the door flap and stepped into the light.

It's not possible for a tent to be larger inside than it is on the outside, they can make good use of their space however. The moment he steps in he's surrounded by the most vast collection of Orbs he has seen. All of them are labelled, priced, and displayed for the curious pokemon to browse. Not an inch of these shelves goes unused - all of it is precious merchandise. The light which had so intrigued him came from a lantern overhead. The ghastly flame inside it flickered between scintillating shades of purple. He'd like it to be a shadow ball if it could give off light, fitting for the place's owner.

She was undoubtedly a ghost-type of some kind, for her entire body seemed woven from violet and pink fabrics. Her huge brimmed hat casts a shadow over her robe-like form. He can see the dim glint of three diamond-shaped gems grafted to her skin, not at all hidden by the translucent cloak around her shoulders. Her wispy appendages handle an orb with the finesse of a well-trained hand. The additional "limbs" dangling from her head did not move in the slightest.

Her desk, strewn with orbs and implements, has her attention. He watches her work fastidiously, taking these orbs into her grasp, then sorting them into different rows. He's seeing an expert at work and it's mesmerizing. He'd hate to interrupt her.

"Good evening?"

Two eyes, like dark gemstones, peer from the shade. Her voice - similar to a specter whom he works with - bears an inextricable echo. If he hadn't been around Froslass so much, this merchant may have frightened him.

"There are two of you, aren't there? I can see a pair of flippers outside." She motions to the walls, all these wares so tightly packed together. "This is no space for him. I can't have a clumsy little boy knock down all my wares."

Leon peeks outside. Having heard her, Prinn has already backed off, his head held low. Poor kid, he thinks to himself.

"He's not as clumsy as you think is, I promise."

"You may be right. He looks well-behaved. I simply prefer to engage my customers one on one. It gives me room to answer questions." she smiles. "You must have a lot for me, do you?"

Why did she just sound so sure? Did Leon's look scream he was a guildie come to harass her? Was it the green cloak, the bag over his shoulder? That grin of hers. He takes a deep breath. There's no hiding now.

"I do, actually." He folds his arms. "My friend and I are on guild work here. We have questions we hope a local could answer. Your shop happened to catch our eye, so if it's of no issue, could you answer a few things?"

"I'm pleased to know I've caught your fancy." She lifts an orb from a case crammed with them. Polishing it, she's seen staring deeply into the clear blue sphere. It's set aside, on a rectangular plinth. It looks no different than the others. "Not many pokemon are out at this hour. I welcome the change. Go ahead - ask away my dear."

Where to begin? The start of this whole mess is because of some wine, which ghosts aren't particularly interested in. How they sustain themselves is a mystery. If he couldn't begin with the wine then it may be best to start with who they believe is responsible. As Prinn pointed out in his investigation, it had to be a fighting type of some kind - possibly a relative to the new girl of the guild. There those mythical bandits Prinn goes off about, but his worries seem largely unrelated to the case. There's bandits anytime, everywhere.

And Eileen…there was no need to drag a family into this mess over mere conjecture, not until Leon's found something solid. The suspect's typing is a good foundation. Build from there.

"We had a robbery occur near Scoria Town." An open shed, a lock strewn across the ground, the sight of two fools at the gate. These familiar sights race in his head. "The stolen merchandise was secured in a place with no way to access it but through the padlocked door. The steel lock appeared neither melted, crushed or slashed, rather it looked to have been warped by strong hands. We believe this, the weight of the stolen cargo, the fact it had to be thrown as well, all suggest a Fighting-Type was responsible for the robbery."

"Since most fighting types in Scoria Town have already been accounted for, we'd like to know if any people from here were seen headed south to the Peninsula. Any fighting type, or pokemon adverse in fighting-type abilities could be considered suspect. Every shred of information will help us find the pokemon responsible."

Eloquently spoken, he could not have put the situation in a better way. Straight to the point, only saying what needed to be spoken. He should keep this written down.

She laughed. Because in some twisted sense, the whole situation was laughable. All of this effort to track stolen cargo, to find a merchant who may not be in danger in the first place, just to keep the coffers of a nobody guild alive. Its changing taste was the Scholar's way to measure one's character, no different than a personality quiz or psychic reading other groups readily rely upon. It was still wine. Bought and distributed to taverns. Maybe he's wrong about ghosts, maybe she's had some before?

Or this could just be funny to her.

"Darling, the only fighting-type I've seen going to and fro is Mienshao. She's part of the Daybreak Guild, she would not be so oafish as to stir bad blood between guilds, especially not the Scholars."

Mienshao, the name instantly strikes him as familiar. What was it?

"Who?"

"Silly me, Mienshao only goes by her species. She's a five-point explorer from the Daybreak Guild, one of few still active in her work." She stifles a second laugh. "A shame her daughter left for another guild, a precious little thing she used to be. What was her name…?"

Her smile widens.

"Oh, t'was Eileen."

His heart sank into the pit of the stomach when heard that name. So much for keeping other guilds out of this! With one name, their little investigation was blown into a conspiracy! What would possibly happen if this was the direct work of a rival guild? Was the absence of supplies running to Scoria a way of bleeding the Scholars of resources? Could Eileen's letters be filled with the Guild's secrets? This could tear everything apart! Is this why Roserade…

In seconds, it had become harder to breathe. He can hear nothing, not even the peddler's words, as an acute pounding rages inside his head.

Aritcuno's Winds, don't look like you're losing it Leon! He pushes his folded arms down on his chest. The air trapped inside him gushes out like a whirlwind, and the pain in his head slows with his bread. A second more of this, he would've been on the floor.

"Eileen, yes Eileen - I know her." Anything Leon could say was better than pure silence. "Not too well, but the name is familiar to me."

He needs another question, stat, before she asks what's wrong with him. His mind works through the lingering pain. Why was Eileen brought up in the first place? Mail, right? Braviary and Prinn mentioned something about Eileen receiving Pelipper Mail all the time. If he is going to chase after either of these leads - he's going after Mienshao. She has to be in this Town.

"Have you seen Mienshao - Eileen's mom do anything odd lately? Has she been to the Pelipper Post much?" A time, a place, he needed somewhere to confront her. Pelipper Mail's the only place. "How often do you see her there?"

"Often enough, she's a Noctowl like you and I. I do not make use of Pelipper, so I never see her there."

Her jovial demeanor takes a sudden, stern curve. She places an appendage on the orb she set aside. She stares him down.

"You want to confront her."

She knew the weight an answer had, she wasn't going to give it away carelessly, not unless he was aware of what he was getting into. This could be a grave mistake, or the break he needs to crack this case. It's Leon's decision.

When he nods, the orb in her hand glows in tandem. A light flares inside it and fades away along with its luster.

"She's there right now."

There's no time to think of how he'd repay her, nor did he even catch her name. When he heard those words his feet acted for Leon; all the questions he may have had about orbs or her store were out the door alongside him. Get to the shore, he reminds himself, as he searches the street in the fervor.

Prinn spots the sweat and terror in his face. He hops from a nearby bench and scampers up to him. "Hey! What's wrong?" he begs. "Are you okay, Leon?"

He can't bring this boy with him, there's no doubt he's been mentioned by Eileen in her dozens of letters to her mother. Braviary would realistically have the least chance of being recognized. He's not an option at this moment; therefore, it has to be him and he needs to be alone. He looks at the guild-colored mantle he has worn since he got here, takes it off and tosses it into Prinn's hands. The bag stays too.

"Stay here until I get back."

"Why?" Prinn sputters. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain later, you stay put." Leon commands. The seconds are ticking.. "If Braviary wanders through here, stick with him."

He didn't wait for the boy to say another peep, he swung himself the other way, and flew.

If the merchant were to be trusted, then the amount of time he has to reach Pelipper Post could be measured in minutes. Everything is about to close. She'll only ever be there to drop a letter or retrieve a correspondence, then she'll be gone. If he's found, or even suspected, her whole guild will come to flock to her protection or worse - they'll come on the Scholar's front door. This was an incredibly dangerous gamble: he had thrown reputation, friends and livelihood all on the table. If he is found, he will lose it all. Should he win one shred of information from her, he'll get to see how deep this pit goes.

What does he say to her, how does someone of his limited experience even approach this? He was no master charlatan, he was only some explorer whose total times he's been near a dungeon could be counted on his six fingers. She would have the rank to back her deeds, while he is about to step his by a hundred miles. A fighting-type like her could easily turn her to dust if she had wanted to, but someone had to take this beast.

His feet took him down a maze of streetways and alleys, cutting between buildings just to stay in sight of the shore. A shadow of a worn-out postal office impeneded. The quaint, open roof-structure full of sleeping flying pokemon frightened him more than the darkest bowel of that forest dungeon. Creaking boards replace the sound of his heavy footsteps; a bulletin board covered in notices is seen part ways up the boardwalk. The guild's intense beacon shines along the face of the mossy building. Leon can see into the doorway, and before he reaches it…

A pokemon steps outside. His heart skips.

A bipedal, weasel-like pokemon approaches the edge of the boardwalk where she stares at the gleaming tower. Three scars line her shoulder where a monstrous pokemon had made its mark on her and attached to a silk red shawl is the semi-circle emblem of the Sundown Guild. The five needle-like points on the opposite side of the circle denote her rank. If his life had led him to Calico Town rather than the isolated Scoria, she would be five leagues above her.

Long clumps of fur dangle from her wrists like tattered banners, and clenched tightly in one of her worn hands is the yellow of a parchment envelope. She does not yet see him; if she does, she's not paying him attention. She lets the Sea's cold wind blow across her fur. The sound of waves makes her ears flick.

Her expression is blank, as if her glee had long deteriorated away. He's reminded of two people: a crestfallen bird, and a lonesome girl. Her familiarity is disarming.

He couldn't be seen staring her way. He moves to the bulletin. Waves are crashing into the beams below, threatening to topple the section of boardwalk constructed around the sturdier office and its weather-worn bulletin. He reads the listings out of habit.

"Lost shipment on the highway to Scoria Town. Rumored Dungeon activity - 500 Coin"

"My boy hasn't been seen since he was around Granite Vale, can someone please find him? I tried Lapis Town, but he didn't sneak over there again."

"A care of Oran Berries needed by Halfway Rock. Wine is optional. Just send an "I Owe You'' to Halcion, she'll get it."

Typical guild faire - nothing he's not seen before time and time again. These, while tedious beyond measure, did serve a purpose. It was steady pay, it kept a community safe, and much of it went to funding all the guild's expeditions. Those endeavors were what so many tall stories are built around. Tales of days-long endeavors deep into the continent to lands assumed to be myths, sometimes to meet said myths in person. If the pay or camaraderie failed to make the life as a Guildie worth living, these Legendary expeditions did.

Legendary, real funny. Would he ever actually meet one of them - those being some people pray to?

"The bulletin will be here tomorrow, it always is." Her voice, strained from years of work, speaks softly to the wind. "New blood? Grass Continent?"

The scenery had put him at ease, made him forget why he was here. It was good to take this all in. He'd look much calmer this way.

"Neither. I got familiar with guild work by being around so many of you people," He glances behind his shoulder to see she hadn't moved. "I never had the chance to take a job."

"Alone?"

Prinn is to be no part of this.

"Yes."

He hears the sound of clawed feet move towards her, cracking and scarring the damp planks. Her shadow is caught in the light of the guild, looming over him, then collapsing to the side as she leans her weight against the board. Her scarlet eyes are tired, yet maintain their motherly gaze.

"Then I will impart you with a nugget of advice: when they ask you to pair up with a partner, you pick one who matters to you. It could be a lover, a childhood friend, but make it someone you'd die for and who will do the same for you. Don't rely on another's talent to carry you - carry each other."

She sighs deeply.

"Too many people with stars in their eyes burn before they can reach them. You don't want to be forgotten."

This was no enemy of his, just a tired, honest woman who had seen greater days. Those sorts of words don't come from anywhere, they're from pure wisdom - lived experience. Those six final words repeat a dozen times in Leon's head before his mouth has a chance to move.

"Needed that." Leon murmurs. "What made you say this, why me?"

"I keep my work to the 'boring' tasks which go unclaimed on this board. When I return I watch my guild light the flame, and give myself time to ruminate over my day. I'm ordinarily not this insolent."

"If you think you're being rude, you're not."

"I'm being more talkative than I should be, it's uncouth of me." Her whiskers involuntarily twitches. "A good mask is a must to live this life. You can be honest to your brothers in the guild, but outsiders don't see this face."

"Someone told me to wait here." She explains. "When I first saw you I believed you were a merchant. The mask came off the moment I saw you staring at the bulletin. Neither clients nor merchants concern themselves with such work. You looked new, like you needed advice."

This "someone" must be the Orb Peddler. The trick of one of those orbs signaled Mienshao to be put - that's what the glow had to be. He'd better not ask them now, these are questions saved for the Peddler herself.

The bulletin makes a faint creak as she backs away. She stretches her arms over head, and lets them slump back down to her sides. The long bands of fur beneath her wrists nearly touch the floor. A clear sign their talk had come to its natural conclusion.

But it's then, in the split seconds when she was about to bid her farewell, he remembers what he was here for. The investigation! He can't let her just slip away. There was only room for one question, to say one last thing. Anymore would reveal himself to her. Say something.

He takes his one shot at the dark.

"Before you leave here, would you happen to drink wine?" Leon focuses on the odd taste of Enigma Wine, and puts on a courteous smile. "Been looking for some, but taverns aren't my thing."

She's apprehensive. The question seemed sudden. Seconds move like hours, then..

"I'm a single mother, I work tirelessly in the guild day by day, and my daughter's out of town." There's no humor in her voice, no sign it's a joke. "I drink wine only after tough days. I had a bottle of Enigma Wine a day ago. It's not a brew you'd find here in Calico yet, but worth its price."

The Smeargle bows his head.

"I'll need to keep an eye out."

She nods back. Not another word was shared between them. She departed for her Guild while he looked to the Post Office. They need more time.