A line of paint draws over the right of the canvas. It hooks around, cracking and wavering all the way to the topleft quadrant. A hand touching the wet paint creates the hooks and crevices, a thin brush transforms the green globules into patches of moss. The crude image of a cliff forms itself across the cheap material. "Not good enough." the painter tells himself, as he rips the canvass off and tosses into a nearby bin.

Leon reaches down into an open duffle bag, materials and paints are cluttered inside. Where is it? He finds pigments, smaller brushes, even a stone knife, yet his hands can't find the canvas to draw on. The Smeargle spits. That chicken-scratch cliffside will be his last. Until he finishes his job he's out.

The ultra-wide barrel next to him is partially full. He dips his tail into the murky water, watching as the green tincture swirls into a verdant spiral. Maybe he'd ought to give up on shapes or lines; start throwing splotches of paint at the walls. It'd vent out the frustration better than making it, because the miasma of colors spinning in front of him was more beautiful than any landscape he could muster. Painting is not his thing, but Smeargles need to practice. Not for art, nor to exercise their brush-ended tails - it's for survival.

No one can sketch mid fight unless they sketch regularly. As shabby as all his artwork is, it serves to keep him alive. Each torn up, abandoned painting is a measure of the care he gives his body. Something which, frankly, Braviary should ought to do more. He had to wrestle him to get him to take off his poncho so he could wash out all the grime they collected in their travels. The amount of nonsense he was able to stuff inside there was appalling. He had holes cut into the cloth between the inside and the exterior. The Elixir was there, his bottle was always pressing up against his side. Can't live without the bottle within wing's reach.

Braviary's hat, unfortunately, is gonna have to stay dingy. The mere suggestion to take it off was like insulting his birth mother - if he even had family he could remember. He'll sooner perish than humor the thought of departing his hat. The badge was no-go. He clipped the trinket to his hat when he surrendered his poncho. Another head-dwelling parasite for the brainless bird. That overgrown Parasect. He was hoping for a look at it.

Prinn didn't have the pockets to smuggle anything, only the pouch fastened to the same belt as his carrying tube. He had some amount of change on him, but the boy's contents were not his to shuffle through. Prinn is as transparent as the Sundown Guild is bright - which is, absurdly so.

There was his get-up too. He washes the knit cap over his hat-shape tuft alongside the rest of their clothes. His cloak, which had been waxed specifically for long travels like these, only requires a little dunk to get the bits of dust clinging on to it. He said he'd take half an hour. Leon finished in a quarter, and there was still plenty of time to get a painting in there. His training, unless Prinn bums him to teach him to shoot, was over for the day.

A massive wall stood in their way, their guild's entire reputation teetering on their backs, but it feels good to pretend this wasn't the case. An increasingly exhausted Smeargle, an amnesiac old man, a young boy - just three ordinary fools searching for a merchant. A merchant who is a member of one of the largest trade families around and…

Nothing about this was ordinary, actually.

Why send him to study this infernal badge? Lycanroc's way more amicable, Roserade is the best battler here for sure, Froslass is just…

It needs to be him. Nobody could wrangle in Braviary and the boy like he could, and everyone else had more important things than a merchant to chase. They need more members, there's no reason to throw them to the fire like this. One day there'll be no one around to take such a petty job, and Lycanroc would be too overworked to journey. This stringent way of doing things was slowly bleeding them dry.

Downstairs, the music Leon had come to quickly associate with this place, was gone alongside its sole musician. In Minstrel's place on stage stands a paper sign. "I shall return at dusk, when the Daybreak Guild lights its tower. Get your requests ready, and bring a pocketful of change!"

Did the venue not pay him?

And in the very same spot slept the Haxorus, a slightly more obtuse position but still drifting away. Someone, this being the Minstrel, was kind enough to cover her eyes with a bright yellow hat. At least this bird did not attribute his life to his hat. It's not hard to guess where Braviary is, but Prinn was in the same spot on the Haxorus' booth, kicking his feet, waiting patiently. When he hears Leon's footsteps from above, he turns around with a glowing smile.

"Hey! Leon!" in the silence of the tavern, Prinn was the loudest thing anyone's ever heard. "You were pretty quick!"

Leon can feel Braviary's scowl watching him from the barside, the smell of berries and bad drinking habits fills the air. Leon hauls over to Prinn, slopping himself down on the edge of the stage and opening up his pack. He tosses the boy his little cravat, and he catches it in his beak. The thing is yellow, like the paper he draws those maps on.

"Yes, I work fast. I already ate and Braviary seems in order…" Leon glances at the Bird. "Are you ready? We've got either a longer or shorter day ahead of ourselves."

"What do you mean, are we gonna leave?" Prinn frowns at the notion.

"Not unless it's an emergency." Leon comforts him. "We're going to look around for news of these bandits of yours, ask a local or two. Merchants especially. Same operation as yesterday."

"Oh…and what about training? And the thing Braviary talked about last night with the psychic?"

"Unless I misheard him, he didn't sound too motivated to head back there. We have a job to do and we shouldn't let personal affairs get in the way too much. It's lower on the list. Your training, however, is a bit higher as of last night.."

Prinn shudders, dread fills his beady eyes the second Leon reminds him of their circumstance. "R-Right." He glances to the side.

Tough luck, and Leon started to like Lycanrok's apprentice. But if she has the potential to leak anything to a dangerous foe, then she may very well be expelled or worse - brought to a faraway bastille. Neither of which anyone wants to come to pass. At least Prinn isn't alone in the sentiment. He has these two downtrodden adults to console in. He'll be there, not till the end, but at least until he puzzles out Braviary's Badge.

"It won't come to blows, she won't hurt you." Leon thinks of anything to comfort him, but the words are still difficult to find. "Eileen is your friend. I hear you're always with her whenever she's off job in Scoria Town. I don't think she'd want harm to come to her daughter by hurting you."

"Are you sure?"

No, he wasn't. Until Eileen's letters are in his hands or they confront Mienshao themselves, they won't know the depths she's willing to go to defend her guild or child. He could try to speak with her once more, stake out the docks again, but he's already shown his hand once. Inquiring at the Sundown Guild's doors is an ill-fated prospect. There is nothing he can do besides hope Mienshao has an ounce of decency.

"I…"

The fur rises on his back. The Haxorus! He gets out of the chair, shakes the brush on his tail, and shines a light straight under the Haxorus' hat. Prinn holds a flipper over his beak..

Nothing from her, not a murmur or a shift in her breath. She's out cold. She was not here anymore, she could not have heard them. Serves them right for running their mouths in here. They came a bit too close to summoning a guild to chase their tail.

"-think we should talk about this some other time." Leon sighs, his hands still shaking. "Upstairs, preferably. Just not now."

"Not…now?" Prinn finally breathes. "I-uh…"

He's about to say something, then he glances at the slumbering beast, reminding himself of the lesson a second ago. Prinn shuffles out of the booth, and whispers to the smeargle.

"I kinda look the most like we're from the Scholar's Guild, you do too…but you're sneakier than I am." Prinn slides a compliment in there, a sure sign he's about to ask something of Leon. "I can't go around asking people if Eileen's mom is around here. Maybe you should think about wearing something like Braviary. Y'know, less green and Scholar-like."

Right, and they had enough for one night, however much the psychic costs and food to eat. They can't afford to spend it on tailored clothes unless he wants to cut a few holes into his duffle bag then call it a poncho. His cloak's green on both sides, he's gonna look specially stupid without his cap unless he styles the plume up there into a proper shape. He wasn't a stylist. If only…

His answer's right there.

He pries open his bag, slides off his rain catcher, doffs his hat, and frantically stuffs both of them inside. Braviary's staring at him from across the bar with one raised eyebrow, Vileplume pretends not to see the Smeargle disrobing, and Prinn's wondering what Leon's plan was all the way until he sees the Smeargle outright swipe the hat from Haxorus. It feels like someone has his head in a lock the moment he squeezes it onto his head. He can't see worth anything past its garish, wide brims. Other than these gripes, he looks like a completely different poke with the amount of shade its casting onto his eyes.

"See!" Leon performs a triumphant bow. He's a genius. "Familiar hat, but totally different Smeargle. How do I look?"

Prinn doesn't comment, he's looking straight at the unconscious Haxorus. Her grizzly wide open eyes cast a chill down his spine. His attention was on the Minstrel last night, not this guildie. Upon seeing her in this restless state, it's too much for him to handle. No wonder Minstrel hid her gaze, nobody would want this gaze staring at them while they perform. He plucks his cap from the bag, and drapes it over the horrific visage.

Suddenly, his disguise is no longer on his mind.

"I-I'll bring it back soon as I can." Leon can still feel those eyes from behind the knit curtains. It's like a spell, terrible. "This thing barely fits as is. How about you?"

"I'll, um, stay here. If that's okay?" Prinn is visibly nervous. "I don't want to be seen around town, I'm kinda scared of being you know…"

Spotted, yes. Braviary and him are strangers to their prime suspect. Prinn taps the side of his head like a clock, counting the seconds it takes for his little head to pull together a plan.

"I could stick near here and find a place to practice shooting?" His expression turns to a smile. "I don't wanna just sit around till you get back."

They're in a Tavern. With regulars like Braviary, they're bound to have dozens of empty bottles littering the back room. A dozen glass bottles doesn't bust the bank the same way a dozen bottles of wine does. Prinn probably just needs to ask.

Leon shrugs. Why not let him do something in the meantime?

"Oh, great!" He chirps. "After I eat, I'll take a look around! When are you going to be back?"

Leon looks over his shoulder. A half of Braviary's glass is missing, though his ramblings don't sound as slurry as they did the night before. Goodness, he's gonna have to babysit him isn't he? He'll take Prinn any day over having to keep the wings of this meddlesome Pidgey off the bottle. Or maybe, he's gotten so used to it at this point drinking was no different than water? Call this bird Skarmory instead because his insides must be made of Steel given how much abuse they endure.

The drunk has ought to find himself a name because the day after he has too much and wakes up a ghost-type is the same day people are truly gonna start asking how he ended up like this.

Though, isn't that what the psychic in town's for? To find Braviary a name - give answers to everyone's thousand coin questions about him? Even he's beginning to think this bird's not all he seems, Faller-stuff aside. As long as it doesn't interfere with their work, he could care less about what this grown bird thinks of himself.

He's not too sure how long a psychic evaluation will take? Ten minutes? An hour? Will they get side-tracked by pointless nonsense in the town? Asking about bandits may only take what, an hour of walking through the town? They can do the asking on the way to this psychic…

"We'll be back here before the tower lights back up." Leon says "That I can promise."

"Oh, okay!" Prinn waves him farewell. Leon takes the raggedy poncho from the bag, then leaves, once again entrusting his things to the boy.

Braviary, slowly picking bites from a bowl of Leppa berries, snags in one final bite before he speaks up. "Nice hat." He nudges his bowl and bottle back to the bartender. "Where'd you get it?"

Leon ignores this comment, and steps up to the bar. The silly looking hat enshrouds his eyes in shadow, his baggy eyes somehow looking more tired in the darkness. He waves Vileplume over.

"Vileplume, is it?" he asks

"Yes…?" The flower-hatted pokemon answers. There's a slight change in their voice, it's just the slightest bit more anxious. It's their "business" tone. A lot of vendors do this.

"It seems you carry Enigma Wine in your establishment." He points to the rack behind them. A lone, dark-colored bottle sits farthest to the right - a splash of monochrome on their rainbow-colored assortment. "We three represent your supplier, and I'd like to ask you two questions if you don't mind answering."

They take a glass into their hand. It's already clean, but they polish it with a worn towel. It's so they look busy.

"Interesting you should say that. You three are from the Scholar's Guild, aren't you? They're the people who supply me."

Wasn't this place an independent establishment? Braviary wouldn't come to any place under investment or the partial ownership of a guild. They'd see his badge, hear his attitude, and kick him out within seconds. They were asking for a reason. He raises a brow from under his borrowed hat.

"We represent them." Like hewing a wooden carving, Leon chooses his words with a delicate hand. "We do not need a badge to show you this, we're independents serving in cooperation with the guild."

"Then why did you come in last night wearing the colors of the Scholar's Guild?" They refuse to look the Smeargle's way. They're busy looking for things to make themselves seem busy. "That hat isn't yours, by the way. He's going to want it back."

"He said I could borrow it last night, it blocks out the Guild's light much better than mine." Leon jests, anything was better than letting them pull this conversation elsewhere. "I told you we are affiliates. Will you answer my questions, or will you not?"

Braviary, who up until this point had been watching this unfold with the curiosity of an onlooker, faffs with his badge. It plops off his crumbly, burgundy-red hat, and he slides into the counter. The odd thing, a sharp diamond shape surrounded by golden winglets, shines under the dim glow of the plume on the wall. Though void of intricate detail, it was an eyecatcher for sure.

"If you're at all familiar with the guild we represent, then you'd have seen what the average fellow from there looks like." He taps the badge, causing it to teeter in place. The back of it appears uneven somehow. "Would any fellow of these Scholars wear a badge, yet alone any one of them like ours?"

It was a little risky of him to have brought attention to his emblem, but the seconds of silence from the cagey grass-type is all they need. Braviary nods at him, his eyes say "go for it."

"I am not obliged to disclose where we stand within our Guild or where we are from, but I could tell you what authority it gives us." Library access, and little else, but he didn't need to tell them. He knows these sorts enough to know where he's to cut. "You represent your supplier, you should answer us."

Their mouth moves, "or else what" didn't need to be said - they knew what could happen to them. A precious brew, cut off, because they want to be all cagey with people standing for their supplier. This was a decision these three idiots absolutely could not make, but for once, the absence of an official badge came useful. They answer him about their business, or this becomes a problem. They go with the shortest of those two roads.

"I'm sorry." They set the glass down with a clink. "It's just your friend here, he…didn't strike me as all that important."

"I ain't." Braviary cuts in. "Now are you gonna let Leon here ask those questions or naw?"

There's a sorry silence. Vileplume trains their eyes on Leon, waiting impatiently.

"Thank you, Braviary." He clears his throat. "We see you're in possession of Enigma Wine, and to save time on needing to ask for manifests, I'd like to know a rough estimate of how much you purchased from your supplier and if you had sold any bottles within the last week."

Rather than go to grab any notes, they look to the skies. With the amount of time it takes for them to count on their nonexistent hands for the exact number they must be telling the truth.

"We were given about Six bottles in total. They're pretty expensive on average, so we sell them by the cup instead of the bottle. Your friend was the last person to get a glass in the last couple days other than sleepyhead over there."

Sleepyhead, the four-point explorer from Sundown Guild otherwise known as Halcion, was currently sleeping next to a Prinplup who had been listening to their conversation the whole time. He gives Leon a smile of acknowledgement before his head slides under the booth, back out of sight. He's saved them all a tiresome recap.

Was that so easy? Leon wants to say, but professionalism is more important than a snide remark. Instead he bids them a "Thank you for your time" and taps Braviary on the shoulder. Without further word, Braviary snatches the garment which had been dangling from the Smeargle's arm the entire time, then slides it on, buckling the badge to it. Braviary leads the way to the morning sun, and Leon is not a moment behind.

Berry vendors, gear salesmen, and even the Orb Lady were all here peddling their wares. It wasn't even noon, yet the plaza was already seeing its fair share of customers coming to and fro. In the back there were even a few of those green-clad workers, grass-types, munching away on freshly cooked berries on and around the same bench Prinn sat the night before. Not too far from them was the Orb Peddler, the peculiar glow pouring from outside seeming as bright as the blue sky hanging above.

There were many places to begin. The wide Rhyhorn chatting to explorers about gear may have heard a thing or two about outlaws from them, any number of caravan runners were just as good of a place to ask about highwaypokes. The second he sees the glow signaling the Peddler's presence though, Leon's feet involuntarily begin moving toward the tent. Braviary is heard mumbling as they navigate the maze of vendors.

"To tell the truth friend, you're none too shabby in that hat." Braviary remarks, a skittering Quilava carrying a basket of berries nearly trips up his feet. "Should I ask why you wanted to stay so hush-hush, or can I assume you actually wanna be an independant?"

"I thought it was obvious, Braviary." Leon exhales, his frustration is leaking through. "For all intents and purposes friend, we're still part of those people until we work this job through. When we're back there, you can decide to go on your own if you want to. I won't stop you."

"I wasn't thinking that."

Oh? The buttery scent of fresh bread fills their nostrils as they stop in front of a lavishly-decorated cart. Leonn folds his arms, and stares straight into the big bird's eyes. He's waiting for the punchline to come, but Bravairy looks back, blinking. They're staring each other down like two drunks about to break into a brawl..

"Since when?" Leon remarks. "Are you planning to go independent?"

"Even if I can't fly I still go where the wind goes. I make the best of what's handed onto my platter, and y'all seem to be giving me much to eat for the time being." There is ever-so less hatred in Braviary's voice. "I'm a temporary guest. I plan to stay as long as I can."

They didn't hire temporary applicants. The Scholar's Guild was all about getting the most fruitful, scholarly pokemon all under the same roof to conquer the unknown. Their Library was a tool, Guildmaster wants explorers who would make best use of it. Their library was not a revolving door for anyone to abuse - Guildmaster didn't want temporary hires for this reason. Braviary was an exception who came at the right time. He may be their first and only person to bypass the excruciating recruitment process because of the peculiar thing he keeps pinned to his poncho.

They need a badge if they want to be recognized among their adventurous peers as more than a manor of shut-ins. A shame they could not pay a fire-type smith to forge them some replicas, they need the real deal if they're ever to go on big dungeon dives.

"You're special." Leon states. "I don't think he'd have wanted you around weren't it for…"

Leon looks around. Nearby, a Watchog in an apron monitors the duo, those gardeners appear to be packing up, the rest are the common rabble. No guildies are to be seen. They're probably on their tasks already, recusing, guiding travelers out of town, claiming bounties. Whereas the presence of a guild was normally comforting, it's now an omnipresent worry on his mind. Their Tower in particular, may as well have Keen-Eyed pokemon watching their every move.

"Your badge." The Smeargle finishes his sentence. "Our guild doesn't typically offer people temporary spots, or memberships of any kind. Guildmaster would rather his members be more…permanent."

"Why's that so?" Braviary steps closer, their stupid hats shroud them in darkness. "You reckon something happened?"

As it would turn out, the troubles were obvious. Leon is not privy to them, he's only been part of them for three months now as a groundskeeper and general adventurer. He's taken no important jobs yet save for securing shipments, small Magikarp things - not one during any of them did he step into a Dungeon. It would be dangerous without a badge, or at the very least dangerous without equipment. Equipment which was difficult to come by near a Town which mysteriously sold none of them.

A Guild Town fairways from Sundown Guild. A place where independent explorers would surely visit, and there was not a single piece of equipment sold other than local brews or the berries they were made from. Yet there were still travelling merchants there, making the rounds back and forth, none of whom are in possession of the ever-so-elusive but direly needed dungeon supplies.

Leon rubs his temples.

"You've seen it too, right?" Leon sighs.

"Your whole guild reeks of trust issues. It sounds like there was drama all over the place, waitin explode out like a geyser." His flowery way of speaking is somehow reassuring. His anger is nowhere to be heard. "You can smell the pot stewing from a mile away, or maybe I could be making mountains outta nothing."

"Were you suspicious about Roserade?" Leon asks.

"It seems like everyone is. The Library lady's voice shifted completely when she brought it up. It was as though…"

"She couldn't talk about it." Leon completes the bird's sentence. They're on the same road, suspecting the same thing. "She'd know everything, maybe even more than our guildmaster."

"Old wounds…" Braviary rumbles. "And then there's the absence of stuff in town. Hard to imagine we had to go on a three day journey just to find a place which sold those magic Orbs everyone's so crazed 'bout. Prinn couldn't find stuff to train with."

Calico Town had Orbs, it probably had Reviver Seeds and everything else an adventurer must have. There was no reason for a town famous for its trade not to carry such wares. So why does Scoria Town, so near by as to have a road connecting to it, receive none of it? There was no way a dungeon could be blocking the other road, merchants came from to and fro, so what was the reason?

It hits Leon like a brick to his head. Oh, Leon, you're an idiot! The words echo in his brain. The answer is right above you.

"Our suspect…she's big in her guild, a "Five Point explorer"." Leon speaks, Braviary listens. "It is reasonable to assume she may have higher authority in her guild. She couldn't sway the whole guild to cut off a source of coin, but she may have had a part in whatever happened. This situation has been a long time coming."

"Maybe she's acting on her own?" Braviary's Keen Eyes dart from place to place watching their backs. "You went on so much about reputations. Even if we're to reckon these are connected, what the guild's doing is quiet, what she did sent a pretty darn clear message. If she's caught she'll happily take the fall for everyone. And everyone's gonna think both guilds did a bang-up drop catching a villain who was hiding in a guild the whole time."

"It's clever on the guild's part, it's bold on hers." A quick laugh, like a wheeze from the bird. "I think I'm more impressed than I'm intimidated."

"You and me both." It would be too much for Leon to smile now, not until this was all over. "Let's get moving. We can ask Roserade what his problem is when we're back."

Only one set of eyes is on them, and it's the red and yellow gaze of the Watchog, wondering what these two were whispering feet away from their stall. He hears a faint rattle as Braviary digs into those hidden pockets, and a cold coin is slipped into Leon's hand. Leon grabs a bread, flicks the pokemon a coin, then takes a bite of the buttery goodness. Soft as a cloud, through crispy atop, the paltry breakfast of two berries pales in comparison to this fluffy piece of paradise.

This situation had been on his mind from the moment Mienshao spoke those innocuous words. It's looming over him, eating away at his mind and his body. A drink would be nice, he thinks, and after he finishes his fourth bite of the piece he looks to his partner.

"There was no time last night, but…" Leon knows the answer before he finishes the question. "Do you want to catch a drink tonight?"

His words invite fleeting life to the decrepit avian. "Assuming we don't embroil ourselves into some nonsense before the day ends, sure. We've still got work we need to do, questions which need asking and a noggin which needs poking through."

He half-expects him to forget about everything the moment wine gets brought into the question. He's an amnesiac drinker bearing a childish grudge atop of being a huge idiot, but at least he's got focus. The bird deserves something for getting this far without shouting to the heavens how much he hates his arrangement.. All Leon can give him at this moment is an earnest smile.

A strong, flowery scent billows from out of the door flap. The glow from inside beckons forth curious travelers, a sure sign to Leon that even in the morning this phantom's abode was open for all to peruse. He bets she senses the two dolts standing outside her tent right now, expecting them to stop their gawking at any moment.

He's not afraid, if anything he feels more calm than when they were upstairs in the Tavern - away from prying ears. His previous visit replays in his mind, filling him with confidence.

"Can you wait out here?" Leon pokes Braviary with his tail. "She prefers one on one questions."

"Maybe she'd make an exception, could you ask?"

Braviary eyes keep moving, it's as though he sees something Leon can't quite notice. He was like this when they left the dungeon. Leaving him out here, even for a moment, would be a mistake. Somehow knows this, and flips open the door to hear phantom's voice to beckon them.

"Both of you, come now. " Her dark eyes peer from below her pointed hat, accompanying them is her crooked-looking mouth, twisting itself into a surly smile. "There's room for the three of us, and our odd hats."

There's a look on Braviary's face, like he's never been in such a place before. They were witness to the Guildmaster's collection, a glass cabinet proudly full of orbs and guild baubles. Where Guildmaster possesses the presentation - the Peddler's wares cloud it in its numbers. How any pokemon could cart these to and fro without cracking any of the delicate wares was a mystery to them, or maybe, the answer was she was simply not the far traveler he assumes. Braviary beholds the collection like a Murkrow with gold in its eyes, but surprisingly, he manages to keep his wing to himself.

Leon holds his arms behind him, standing in attention of the phantom. It's a greatly different air from last night - it's almost casual.

"I take it you changed your policy overnight." Leon jests "Or are we part of the hatted mob, now?"

"No. We haven't formed a mob. I'd be glad to enroll you into a contract should it strike thy fancy." She holds up an Orb from her desk, the ghostly lantern overhead makes the clear-blue crystal shine like amethyst. "Dungeons are the only places where these could be found with any manner of consistency; else the ground-types would've upheaved entire valleys by now. Adventurers are always in need."

"Hey, wait." Braviary takes a break from his ogling. "Don't you have a partner? Me, this fellow, and another pal of mine made our ways through a dungeon a few days ago. It was dangerous the whole way through, can't imagine a pokemon storming one all on their lonesome."

"Oh," It's like she didn't mean to disclose the fact. She still smiles his way. "A clever bird you are. I've no partner to speak of. Those mysterious dungeons aren't as foreboding as you would think. If you're experienced, then a romp through one is no different than a stroll up a mountain. Just as dangerous, and manageable."

"What do you two know about climbing mountains?" Leon snorts. "Both of you could have soared over it at a given time."

"Not anymore." The Bird grumbles, something beneath his poncho twitches in rage. The Phantom on the other hand has no reaction.

"Levitation varies from pokemon to pokemon." she giggles. "I cannot soar in the ways your friend here must have when he ruled the skies. The times I had made a mountain journey the height never dismayed me. It's either the potential of traipsing into a dungeon, or those irksome dwellers themselves which are equally stressful"

"I plan my excursions ahead of time. I collect the orbs I can in a brief time, then use one to escape." She explains, motioning to the collection which surrounds them. "I sell them here for a profit. Though, I would say the opportunity to converse with you heroic sorts is as worth it as the coin I pull in.

There is no expression she has which is not some manner of grin, yet this time it is inextricably kinder than usual. She means her following words in earnest. "Any one of you could run my ear off for days on end, perhaps years, and I'd only hear half the breadth of an explorer's tales."

Tales they've yet to make. Leon's life outside of his constant caravanning has yet to truly start, and now he's suddenly about to make moves which could cause it to come tumbling down. He didn't join so he could have his name in the annals of exploration history, nor was it to become stronger, or some altruistic motive. His reasoning for entering the Scholar's was so people could listen to him. It was not for the better pay.

The sights and places he's been a guard he would've still seen under a guild's banner. He wants not coins, but the rapport a guild brings. It was all worthless to Leon if there was no one to share it with. Losing any of his comrades means losing his reason to stay with the Scholar's. But should he leave the guild to become an independent traveler, these two wayward fools would be there with them.

Somehow, Leon knows this. It brings him solace.

"I'll letcha know when we hear something or see somethin' worth sharing." Braviary laughs. "Now, Leon. What did y'all bring us here for?"

Braviary's voice yanks Leon out of his stupor. The Smeargle shakes his head, he grabs his tail out of instinct then lets it slump to the floor. A puny thud is heard before he speaks.

"The same reason as yesterday, miss…" Leon lets the word sit for a second. The ghost glances at him like he's a fool. Alright, she doesn't have a name then. Species or otherwise, she's above moniker.

"We're here to ask about recent trouble." The Smeargle picks up his speed. "It's not about the robbery this time. I need an assessment on local crime to help in our investigation."

"You're worried about crime?" she laughs, "Sundown Guild handles all manners of protection and safety within Calico. Unless there's something more devious afoot than a wine robbery…"

"There is." Braviary comments from over Leon's shoulder. He plops an orb onto the Peddler's table. "We've been lookin' for a lost merchant. Considering whom she's working for, I reckon she doesn't have the same protection afforded to her by your precious Sun-buddies. She was hired directly by the Scholar's Guild and sent this way to drop something off. We didn't find any of what she was hauling here."

"Which is odd to me, given the only fellow who has correspondence with her says she was meant to drop off the wares to Calico's Sundown Guild. But I reckon if it was just the guild she was supposed to visit, we'd have seen her around by now."

Their Aromatisse was here to sell to the guild, so why isn't she around? She had to have moved on, Leon thinks. So if the guild's not selling any, and the only place left to purchase this wine was from the Hollow Dream's Tavern, then why go through all the trouble of stealing wine other than to send a strongly worded message?

"It's not a brew you'd find here in Calico yet, but worth its price."

The words of Mienshao repeat in Leon's mind. She had a bottle two days ago. On that day, either the merchant passed through or when Mienshao got here with the stolen barrel. Which one was it? Could it be both? It could not have been sent to the wrong place, so what on the good name of Winter happened?

Do not let Mienshao off the hook for one wee-little inconsistency. Ask about the Guild first. The peddler's tent has the perfect view of the entire square, she'd know everything which goes on here.

"Oh my, a highway robbery is indeed devious. Your friend had been very forthcoming when he last stepped in my domain." The Peddler flicks one of the bands dangling from her head, brushing it like a lock of hair. "Am I correct in my assumption that the three of you are allied with the Scholars?"

Leon looks between Braviary, then at the merchant. "We're technically independent." he murmurs.

"And I am to believe independents hired by the Scholar's would know the things you've told me?" Her laugh is like one tiny thorn pricking into their sides. "I recognize you as neither from the Anomalous Society, nor the Sundown Guild. I thought it was wise to ask."

Lapis Town is home to a less formal structure of adventurers. From what Leon knows, societies tend to be individual teams who ban under a mutual purpose. These groups have no Guildmaster to oversee their every decision, nor the formal authority to exhibit over the land. Independents prefer these over the stuffy rules of a guild, it lets them retain their freedom all the while contributing to something greater than their individual adventures.

The name "Anomalous Society" hints towards their purpose. It brings up familiar thoughts about those strange dungeons and the theories as to how they form. He's never made the journey to Lapis Town, it's too far for even his caravan, but Leon knows a little water-type who has.

"I ain't from any guild from around here, but until my folks contact me I've decided to partner up with the Scholar's for a patch." Braviary points his beak towards the hatted Smeargle. "He's the guildie here, I'm the nobody who got whipped up into this."

"I assure you feathery friend, You're not the only scholar here." The peddler giggles.

"I'm sorry?" The bird raises an eyebrow. He gets no further reply from her, and when he looks to Leon for an answer, the Smeargle dismisses him.

"I assume there's a purpose to these questions?" Leon speaks.

"There is. I happen to be acquainted with your Guildmaster. Who else do you think stocks his orb collection?" Her pride is audible. "I assure thee, everything you say here is safe with me. I don't want to see everything he's built be set aflame. I trust you will refrain from asking anything too ridiculous of me."

"In other words," The Smeargle continues. "Don't jeopardize your ongoing business with the other guilds?"

She rewards him a nod. Then, she resumes her sorting of wares. Spotting the new addition to her table, she rolls it across the desk, and her dark eyes examine it.

"Now that our speaking terms have been firmly established…." she says, "Do tell me; what troubles your guild so? Spare me no detail."

Leon clears his throat.

"Up until yesterday, our investigation was solely about our Guild's reputation. We couldn't allow anyone to freely steal our wares, so we had to apprehend or find who had committed the robbery." Leon recounts. "Braviary took notice of a lack of adventuring gear on sale in town, Prinn - our third, said Eileen was stressed about letters she's received from her mother. Circumstantial evidence pointed towards the culprit being a fighting-type. I pursued the lead from Eileen, and after speaking to Mienshao last night I have reason to think it was her."

"Not only do we gotta worry about this," Braviary takes the smallest step forward, "we still gotta find our Merchant who might be in danger of getting robbed by highwaymen. The girl's an Aromatisse from one of the big trade groups around these parts."

"So when y'all put all these in a basket: Missing Merchant, Missing Wine, a high-ranking member of another guild trying to ruin us, and the possibility of them using trade to bleed us dry."

Braviary takes a deep breath, his feathers rustle like leaves on a tree. "We got our hands full with this circus, anything you can do for us would be a real help."

What's with him and circuses? It's the second time Leon's heard him bring this up.

"I can confirm outside of the one whom I purchased these incenses from that I had not seen an Aromatisse of any kind come this way. Given your suspicions about the Sundown Guild, it's unlikely she would have received any manner of protection from them.." She looks to Leon. ""You're aware of this, are you?"

"Quite aware, unfortunately." The Smeargle answers. "We're on our own out here."

"I'll have you know the Sundown Guild has been relying on your guild's own trickery to measure others ever since their usual reader, Xatu, has not been seen in town for a spell." She lifts the orb into her appendage, then polishes it down with a loose blue cloth. "I am capable of similar readings. The Guild came to me first, but I refused to perform them out of respect for dear Xatu. Judeau wouldn't have work if I did."

"I can make a personal inquiry about the Guild's readings, the associated wine, and the lady who was supposed to have delivered it. The souls of the Sundown Guild will be none the wiser."

She's the only one out of everyone here who could get within reasonable distance of the Sundown Guild, and she's gleeful to lend her aid. They're not alone here after all. This phantom was as much an ally as anyone else from the Scholar's Guild.

"When can we expect you to have this information?" Leon asks. "We'll be…"

"In the Hollow Dreams tavern, come night." The Peddler cuts him short. "I'll have it by then, but for thy friend here."

The Phantom stares at him in an odd fashion. Her expression is unchanging, her dark eyes are nigh-impossible to read, but he can see the golden reflection of a badge in her gaze. For the fraction of a moment, Leon could swear he sees a scowl from the shadow of her hat. Then like the snap of the finger, the mischievous mask is back on. She curls an appendage below her chin.

"Interesting choice of Orb, though I expect a man of your experience would have his reason." She smirks at Braviary. "Two hundred, flat, and this Blowback Orb is yours to command."

It's then Leon's reminded of who's holding onto his coin, but it's too late. He gives the coin, takes the orb, then stuffs it in those crude pockets inside his poncho. Braviary bids her a swift bow..

"Come on," He taps Leon on the shoulder. "We still gotta see Judeau."

"Right." Leon mutters. The coin's replaceable. Who knows why he bought the orb in particular, it'll just be useful to have for either the bounties they'll claim or dungeons they'll conquer in their journeys ahead.

Waving to the Peddler as they vanish behind the flap, her expression is the same impish mask. Something about her troubles him in a fashion which runs deeper than the internal struggles of a guild. She's not frightening in the slightest, though there must be a reason for such a forward show. Not even Braviary, who was seemingly the most perceptive of all of them, had anything upon his face suggesting he may have caught her slipping.

So many secrets, so many disguises. And for what - who knows?

Mienshao's advice stuck with him as much as any of her crimes. Now was no time to question his allies, not yet.

Comparing it to the Tavern, the Emporium Braviary was leading Leon to was a tiny stone shack. Blue cloth was covering its thin glass windows. By covering, he means the drapes were plugging up every conceivable inch of the window where a tiny mote of the late-afternoon light could seep through. He would take it for a hermit's shack rotting away in the centre of town were it not for the sign erected near its door. An eye, drawn in blue, above it is a halo of glittering stars. Archaic script on the sign read "The Emporium", though good look finding anyone who read their chosen style of Unown. It could be the point, to perhaps seem more mystical than what it appears to be, but he's no psychic. The text could give off an energy of some kind - who knows?

When reaching for the handle of the painted wooden door, Leon stops him.

"Did you notice it earlier?" Leon speaks.

"Notice what?"

Okay, so the old man didn't notice the Phantom's strangeness when she beheld his badge. Such a troublesome thing, whatever it was. A pokemon of her experience with orbs could possibly have seen something in its brass sheen. The whole hour they spent asking merchants for any news of bandits while feigning interest on their faces was less memorable than those split seconds of honesty from the peculiar specter.

Later, he may tell him, or keep this all to himself. While Paranoia was keeping him safe throughout all their adventure, it was only helpful in incremental doses. It could all be nothing.

"Nothing," Leon shakes his head. "This is your appointment, do you want me there?"

"If only to prove to you I ain't shootin the wind with this fellow for the next hour," Braviary jokes. "Come on in, you'll get cold out here. And there's a big warm couch in there waiting for a fellow to sink into."

Braviary opens the Emporium's door to expose themselves to the wonderful stench of...some sort of incense. Words could not accurately describe it other than it was strangely pleasant, somewhat soothing, like raindrops on the window while reading in candlelight. It's a psychic thing, for sure. The scent was the final touch to the mysterious painting both the fine furnishing and the blue glow from the windows were trying to imagine. The whole Emporium felt odd.

Since the person running this operation had turned tail, this left The Apprentice to start picking up the slack. A teal-colored pokemon rose from the desk, their skin like clay, their eyes stained glass, the floating pokemon seemed as though they belonged here. With a wave of their runty hands they greet the pair.

"Good day to you Braviary, I didn't expect you to come back so soon." The Elygem's voice is clear, and warm. They make sure everyone can understand. "I presume this is someone you travelled to Calico with?"

"Temporary partner." Leon extends a hand, they give it a bump with theirs. "My name is Leon, and you are Judeau, right?"

"Pleasure to have met you, Leon." After the gesture, Judeau cuts to the chase. "You're aware of your friend's circumstances are you? The manner in which he woke, the missing memories?"

"I was the one who told him to get himself checked in with a psychic." Leon elaborates. "I'm also paying for your services."

Leon shoots Braviary a look at his poncho. He reaches under, then throws him a coin purse. The Smeargle catches it with surprising ease. It's gotten quite lighter in a very short time. Judeau's work better not cost him a criminal's bounty or there will be many less drinks for the night.

"Ah, good, there's a flat hundred upfront." Their big head turns to Braviary. "Depending on how deep you want to go, Braviary, there will be the appropriate fee after your session."

"I'm only looking to confirm whether or not there's actual memories there. I have no interest in long-lost birth parents, or embarrassing memories I've locked away.." He shivers, the room is hardly cold. "Just a brush over. I'm still not comfortable with the idea of anyone picking apart my noggin."

Explains away why he wants him in here. The presence of someone familiar - a friend, or ally - makes the eventual dive into his head much easier. Leon feels the same. Nobody is comfortable volunteering themselves to be put in such an compromising position, yet alone, have themselves be literally read like one of Froslass' tomes. It's a surprise the codger would even consider this. If he just wanted his trust, then all he needed to do was promise his memories would pose no issue.

He's going a step beyond for Leon and for this investigation. It nearly makes him believe Braviary's not a complete travesty.

"I can do that." There are "rooms' in the backs, parts of this small shop which had been curtained off into makeshift rooms. It would look terrifying and sterile were it not for the fact the curtains were plastered in a layer of starry glitter. "Take a seat in the back, or the couches, your choice."

Having mentioned the couches earlier, the bird slouches over to the furthest one. His body goes limp the second it touches the cushions.

Leon grabs a fistful of coins and Judeau whisks a hundred of it away from his palm. The money flutters like birds in the wind, stowing themselves away somewhere across the room. As payment completes itself Leon makes for the nearest couch, keeping his tail as far away from the pristine fabric as he topples into its cushiony arms.

It's comfy.

"This may only take a few moments, Braviary." A tiny chair pulls itself from beneath the curtains, right under the floating pokemon. They sit within arms reach of Braviary's head. "Tell me when you want to go, or stop. Screaming is just as valid as saying no."

"Screaming?" A single bead of sweat trails down Braviary's forehead. "You're not gonna hurt me, right?"

"No, it won't hurt you in the slightest. It'll be fuzzy, like a dream. I suggest lots of water afterward." An invisible hand tugs on Braviary's hat, he immediately pulls it back onto his noggin. "Please take off your hat, and your badge. Steel-Types are famously resistant to psychic abilities, so are particularly well-made metals."

Braviary slumps the hat off his head, and Leon's never seen a bird look bald. There are the feathery remnants of a once imposing crest having been devoured by the elements and years of living. What remains slicks back over his head in thin strands, growing fuller as they point downward. To the untrained eye, the yellowish plume of feathers behind his head may seem like part of his crest, but they're indeed their separate growth. Like the blonds are his actual hair - the whites are a weathering regalia. He's not even gonna mention the scarring to his left.

The badge he is not so willing to part with. He clenches it tightly, mutters in frustration, and removes it from his poncho with a snap. The symbol falls on the table between them, the round bottom causing it to wobble in place till it settles. The points on the diamond-shaped ornament hold them both at the end of a sword. Braviary shoots him an intense look - he'll know if Leon touches it.

Tampering with the badge was entirely out of the question. He can at least take a good look while Braviary leaves for the other side.

"Alright, did that." Braviary groans. "What more do you want me to do?"

"I want you to put what you want to remember at the forefront of your mind." Judeau places their hands on Braviary's shoulders. "You won't be in complete control, no one can be, but you can steer me in the right direction and I'll follow suit."

"Okay, basic memories, going with that." He draws in a deep breath, and clamps his eyes shut. "Maybe I'll try to fish up an adventure of some kind, see if I ever was ever who I think I am."

"Good idea. Now please, be very still for me."

Judeau rotates their hands to reveal three, shining gemstones on each of their "fingers". They begin flashing, extinguishing and lighting, shining different colors onto the face of an increasingly uncomfortable Braviary. Then there's a bright burst, and all life leaves the Bird. His body is caught in the cushions of the bed. Then Judeau's hands move swiftly and precisely, like a pokemon weaving a loom.

Only Judeau can see what's happening. Call it habit or a kind gesture to Braviary's curious companion, they clue Leon to what they see.

"I can't get a bite."

Leon stands up. Whatever it is, it sounds worrying. "Excuse me?"

"There is resistance where there shouldn't be, I've felt this only in other..." Their words are cut off. Their hands, instead of sewing motions, make those of pulling over and over. "The line is cast into his sea of memories. Something dark and full of regret snaps the cord, and my finds keep getting lost to the waters"

"What does this mean?" Why was he so scared? You're not making sense, it's just a procedure.

"Either he has an uncanny resistance to psychic interference, or there is a long lost, painful memory of his fighting my attempts to surface it." They move their hands to his cheeks, correcting Braviary's head towards the skies. "I could…"

Judeau leans over him, their disproportionate head as close as it could be without brushing the fragile plumes of Braviary's mane. The lights flickering in their palms fade, followed by a click as their gem-like eyes are shuttered away. Life leaves them as well. What's going on?

Leon scurries around the table. He places a hand on the bird's chest, and keeps it there, feeling for the rise and fall of his lifeline. Whatever happens - if anything happens, Leon will be he hears something. It's neither the breath of Braviary or the psychic's murmurs. It's a rattle slowly rising in pitch.

"The farthest back: I feel great joy, and his greatest pain." Whispers leave Judeau's invisible mouth. "He took a voyage across the Sea…"

The rattling gets louder. Leon forcibly pulls himself from his friend, and searches the room.

"The flight is over, the joy returns. Many journeys follow. Then there is...pain again, terrible..."

His ears track the source of the sound, it's on the table. Leon pushes orbs, cloths, trinkets aside but nothing stops the rattling. The last thing there is...

"Joy from a bottle, fear from a badge."

The Badge rattles in place, swiveling back and forth, scratching the counter it's on. It slowly centers itself. The diamond points not at him, but behind him - past the wall towards where they came from. Towards the Phantom? Is this thing warning them? He was never going to get an answer from the badge. The moment it passes its message it settles sideways, all the energy animating it is gone.

"This terrible thing…"

Judeau's eyes open, their hands are trembling. They grasp for the bird's missing wing and reach nothing. The shock strewn across their face is all too real. They leave their chair, struggling to the other couch like a wounded creature. Their eyes are of a person who had seen a hundred hauntings in a span of minutes.

Leon does not wait for them to settle, he needs answers now. He dashes over to the couch, to shake the Psychic for all he's worth. "What's going on? Answer-" As the questions form in his head he hears the groan of a Braviary returning to life, and his thoughts are sent to the winds.

The Elygem, however, won't leave a customer empty handed. Before Braviary could fully course from his sleep, Judeau pulls the Smeargle uncomfortably close.

"This isn't his first time." they whisper, "He wanted to forget."