Savoir-faire – To Know and To Do

VI: Aller – To Go

(cont.) It must be a horrible dream, but the fact remains that I am here. The Elite Four, and Madame Diantha require the mask I discarded a long time ago. They require Her Serene Highness once more...

Parfum Palace remained as overdecorated as always; gold walls, gold pillars, statues of knights and the Bisharp general of the Empoleon contingent dating from the War of the Hydrangeas that led to the Last Dynasty.

The main palace itself, consisting of the old king's living quarters, were up for display, but two wings were cut off from the public. One was the permanent residence of Bertram Wooster, the Kanto millionaire. The other wing was used by the Kalos League to receive delegates. The previous owner had had not a choice in that matter.

I was brought to a sumptuously decorated room, psychic bonds linking me to an ebony straight-backed chair. Wikstrom laid my belt on the Louis XV table before them, the Elite Four spreading out to surround both former Champions of the Kalos region. I noted wryly that they seemed more tense about my capitulation than anything else.

"Augustine said that you were studying the sociology of Pokémon and humans," Diantha began as an opening comment.

"I have a doctorate to prove it," I replied quietly.

"A new field of Pokémon study is always good."

"It's a combination of Oak's and Birch's work, with influences from Augustine." I said. "I was hoping to find answers. Why do Trainers set out to do battle? Why do organisations like Team Rocket, Team Flare, form? There must be forces in society that could account for their valid rise."

"I wasn't aware that deviance could be studied," Diantha frowned lightly.

"We could argue about this matter all day," I replied. "Get to the point of why I have been caught by the Elite Four."

"Not very pleasant, are you?" Malva commented on the sidelines.

"I've been living alone for the past four years or so," I shrugged. "No need to practise social skill on anyone but Augustine, and Augustine has met virtual hermits. I've never been the most congenial Trainer, anyway."

"So charming, though," Drasna sighed. "Even that Lucario loves you."

"I know," I sourly answered. "Yet, earning the love of a Pokémon is not a unique skill-set. Augustine had better have a reason to sell out."

"He did," Diantha softly replied. "You know that Team Flare did a wrong to Kalos, but that Kalos is not unique in this respect. Rocket, Aqua, Magma, Galactic and Plasma has, at one time or another, sought to overthrow the existing order. What happened ten years ago was the catalyst of a... movement. A movement that has started since the Gym Leaders of Unova stood together against the Seven Sages of Team Galactic."

"The idea that the Pokémon League could be subsumed into any system of government is laughable," I murmured in understanding.

"But it is an idea that gains merit," Diantha gave a brief shudder. "And in a move that emulates La Pucelle, you have defeated Lysandre. Trainers hold the power, and many seem to believe so."

"I gave my resignation," I replied, trying not to shudder. "I am not an inspiration."

"The Kalos League will be holding a conference here tomorrow," Diantha continued. "We will be discussing this... problem. Representatives of the Indigo, Hoenn Sinnoh, and Unova League will be present. The general consensus is not promising."

"You mean that the Leagues are convinced that these ideas have merit," I clarified. "Or some of the Leagues."

"Dangerously so," Diantha agreed. "Needless to say, you are a symbol to the amorphous them. La Pucelle of the new age, the heroine of Kalos... you can either help or harm us."

"I can't help anyone but my Pokémon," I reflected. "Did you know that Augustine found new students? Three of them are named after the ones I knew, and Serena is Calem's daughter. When did that happen? It's been ten years."

"...They did well for themselves," Siebold volunteered at last, as the rest were silent. "Ma chère, there is no need to be guilty."

"I don't want to be an ideal," I shuddered. "I just... I just want my answers."

"To immortality," Drasna conceded. She was not smiling at all. The Elite Four and the Champion were the only ones privy to the reason why Daisy Linden suddenly disappeared in the wake of the decimation of her Pokémon.

"I'm supposed to be twenty-six," I said. "Not sixteen. I've been sixteen for ten years. About four years before that, I was twelve and Team Flare started to fall, and then I took the Championship. I was only there for four years, there's no way I could have made any credible impact. I am not going to be Champion and spend the rest of eternity wandering the globe. My team... my old team, has proven as the best of a generation. Leave that to be said in the Hall of Heroes. Daisy Linden does not wish to give any more. Dr Marguerite Linden du Bois will compile her work to be done, and then we will set out."

Diantha's expression shifted, eyeing me, and then slowly moving towards Altair, who had begun to move to a cross-legged position across of me but on her other side. "A final journey, then? For whose sake?"

I did not answer her, even though I saw her Gardevoir give a moue of distaste.

Diantha's expression fell. "I see."

Slowly, she looked at the coffee table. No one, not even Malva, seemed keen to break the silence.

"I asked Augustine to get you to us for a reason," Diantha finally said. "This... idea. It is infectious. Mr Goodshow has told me of his fears, that soon the League would be mired in politics. Already we are involved with diplomacy, regional pride, competing industries, and the quality of our local research, if that could even be said. As the acknowledged Champion of Kalos, even despite your... tragic loss, you can combat this. You could lead another Kalosian Revolution."

"I am not a revolutionary," I replied, a touch harshly.

Diantha smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "Neither was the maiden of Notre Dame."

"I cannot talk politics."

"You can talk about how Pokémon should not be involved in human politics. That seems to be your field of study."

"My field is ever more expansive than that," I chuckled, although without amusement. "Unhand me, Diantha, and then tell me directly what you wanted so badly that the entire Elite Four has crashed into a public facility to restrain me."

The psychic bonds disappeared as Diantha nodded. "As Daisy Linden, I want you to take the Parfum Conference, and tell the representatives, along with any Trainer that might have stumbled by Camphrier Town, exactly what you think. From there, I believe the unrest might prompt the rational to abandon sponsorship of any... insurrectionists."

"So you found me," I slowly echoed, "for the symbolic, if not charismatic, power of Daisy Linden to cause enough strife between Indigo Plateau, Mt Silver, Ever Grande City, Lily of the Valley, Vertress City and Île-de-l'arc until the combined idiocy of a horde of Trainers hopefully causes any anarchist pro-Trainer governmental movements to lose rational momentum."

"That sounds about right," Malva nodded. "Can't be too bad for you, eh? The heroine who took down big, bad Team Flare."

"There's the flaw, though," I answered. "None of the Teams were rational, nor were they supported by the public. If you are hoping that the Leagues can discredit themselves by collective retardation, that would not happen globally. Each League is respected in their respective regions, even for the five of you. In fact, such a move would be more likely to have any legitimacy of under-age Champions like Iris of Unova questioned, and most likely removed, not to mention make the Kalos League look like a collective fool."

"Verily," Wikstrom agreed as Siebold nodded. The fact that the chef has yet to make any artistic declarations was... well, it belied the gravity of the current state of affairs.

I shook my head. If Siebold and Wikstrom could spot the errors, then so could I. "You just want me to get together and turn Kalos somewhere, rather than mired in nowhere."

"Glamour gets people nowhere," Diantha conceded. "You have the symbolic power to make a statement. We desperately need to make a statement as a united entity."

"Because ambiguity encourages deviance," I murmured, standing up to snatch my belt and clip it around my waist. Almost as one, Altair stood up, Aegis clinking behind him.

"Where is Bertie?" I asked, taking my bag.

"At home," Drasna placidly informed me.

I nodded, turning my back to go.

"What about the Conference?" Diantha called as I left.

I never answered, though I continued passing the glided hallways of the Parfum Palace. Occasionally, a servant or maid would spot me, and then hurry along their business quickly, leaving me to my thoughts. The Conference obviously contained more people than just representatives if even the participants of the Battle Château looked nervous. Who benefited? If Trainers were in the government... greater controls on Trainers. Tighter Pokémon regulations. It would allow for control over the League, or vice versa.

The balance of power could shift away or towards the Trainers, who held the Pokémon... and what about the bank-rollers? Devon and Silph, amongst them... Steven Stone, probably. Wallace was the Hoenn Champion, and remained as such- though he was friends with Steven, and Devon Corporation by default. Unknown stance...

I found my way into the personal wing, calling Aegis to break the door in only one instance. It was three steps later that I realised that the Psychic Pokémon had Teleported in.

"Hello, Jeeves."

The Gallade with the bow tie had the audacity to nod towards Altair. "I see that the Elite Four have met you, Mme Linden."

"I go by Linden du Bois now. I'm a researcher at the Sycamore Lab."

"Symbolic, Doctor. I applaud your achievement in the field of academia."

"And Bertie?"

"Master was unfortunately harassed by Mme Malva. I have escorted him to the Battle Château with Jarvis and McIntosh."

I paused. "Jarvis? Bertie got a new Pokémon?"

"Indeed. I believe his cousin Mr Stark in Unova sent a Klingklang as a gag gift."

"But Steel-type Pokémon are some of the hardest to handle!" I paused. "You're planning to foist the Klingklang off to Wikstrom, aren't you?"

"When Master realises that the Klingklang is beyond his abilities as a Trainer, he shall have to ensure that the beast is sent back to Unova. Meanwhile, it should be placed in the care of an expert Steel-type Trainer, and M. Wikstrom is amongst the best, is he not?"

"So Augustine's message, the bit of the two of you being in danger... that was a lie too?" I asked lightly.

"We are in danger, most of it caused by Master himself. Being the Baron of the family would be enough responsibility for Master, but he is... mentally negligible. I would not place undue stress upon my master with the coming situation."

"Fair enough," I admitted. Jeeves had, as far as I had known, been Bertie's starter Pokémon, and basically ran his life. If the Gallade with an intellect to rival an Alakazam and the savvy to employ it like a Dark-type Pokémon said so, it was so. "And I presume you heard everything?"

"You may presume."

Altair held my right elbow as Aegis held my left, and even in weakness, I faced the tall Gallade with as much mental clarity I could muster. "How did events end up like this?"

"It was always going to happen.""Now, it remains to be seen if the blood sport would be politicised."

"And then?"

Jeeves pondered. "Future Sight does not reveal much. Just know that this Conference shall decide the field of battle. Shall it be an individual test of skill... or shall it play out in wars across nations and regions? Merely know that no Trainer should have life and death over other humans."

"I see," I relented. Psychics would say something only when they wish to, and no further. "Let us go."

"Is the Gallade telling the truth?" Altair questioned as we hobbled away from the Gallade valet.

"No," I replied. "Or if he was, not the entire truth. That is the way of the Psychics, don't worry about it."

"Then... what should we do?"

"Turn up," I rummaged in my pouch for the tiny badge I knew was there. "What they want is Linden, anyway. Time to strut your stuff, partner."

"What?"

"If this Conference would be held, most likely Gym Leaders are going to be flown in," I calculated. "If so, then Korrina would be there, and if I am to act the Champion, even without- without Delphi, or Deneb, then, you will be my proof of identity."

"You are who you are!" Altair sounded stunned."The name you discarded-"

"Yes," I agreed, even as I walked out of the doorway of Parfum Palace, to greet an overcast sky. "Cards can be counterfeited, mannerisms copied, even a substitute Mega Ring can be procured. The bond of a Lucario and Trainer cannot be faked. I suppose it's good luck that I got that tie-neck blouse and pleated skirt with the socks."

"So you will reclaim that identity?"

"Kalos has need of Her Serene Highness once more, Altair," I murmured right as we walked through the Palais Lane. "I placed Diantha into that position to begin with."

"Very well," Altair decided. "I will assist you."

"Thank you, partner," I winked. "Besides... where better to start with the rebellion than quashing all illusions?"

I could feel my chest heaving. My heart thumping, and my nerves on the fringe. Serena wasn't much better, since she was stuck dealing with the out-of-control mechanical menace of a Klingklang.

Me? I was facing the ugliest dog-thing this side of the Orange Archipelago. It was purple, bipedal, and bulldog-like, in that it had a prominent lower jaw with two long, fang-like growths, and its upper jaw has two small fangs. The monster had trouble keeping its own head up, that was how heavy those teeth were. Flat, curved ears hung on either side of its head, and its small, snub nose shone like a polished onyx I had seen in Pewter Museum. A black collar was stuck around its neck, with two small white markings on it, and round its wrists were two black band markings. It had a tiny tail, but the rest of it was kinda creepy.

The PokéDex read: Granbull, the Fairy Pokémon. The evolved form of Snubbull. Granbull has extreme fighting power due to its heavily muscled jaw and its strong teeth and tusks.

Thank you, PokéDex, for telling me which monster would have Frogadier for lunch.

Its foppish dandy of a Trainer stared. "Ah, well, boy. You do know that McIntosh is a Fairy-type, right?"

"How is that relevant?" I called. "Water Pulse!"

The dog moved faster than I thought possible, choosing to dash towards Frogadier.

"Fire Spin, Elmo!" Serena called. "What are you doing, Donar?!"

"Quick Attack!" I called towards Frogadier. "Aim for the feet!"

Frogadier stuck its tongue out, before it dashed, cut around the monster's stubby tree-trunk legs and hammered. McIntosh, that thing's name, howled and made for Frogadier.

"Careful, McIntosh!" the dandy called. "Don't want to hurt anyone unduly, right? There's a good laddie, Ice Fang!"

"Pound!" I retorted, staring as Frogadier flipped, leapt, and threw a wild fist at the Granbull's knee before jumping for the other side of the field. Unfortunately, by some miracle of movement, the Granbull managed to snag on Frogadier, throwing my poor Pokémon into the air.

"Bite!" the dandy called.

"Elmo, Psyshock!" Serena retorted as a scream of metal screeched across the field.

"Frogadier..." I called. "Now! Water Pulse!"

Right as the bite was about to land, Frogadier unleashed the Water Pulse with enough force to propel himself away. At the other side, the Psyshock struck as a concussive wave of energy that rattled the large head until the Granbull keeled over.

"We win!" I called, whistling.

"Great job!" Standing by the sidelines, Viola pumped a fist.

She was not alone, though, instead joined by a purple-haired woman in a black dress. The woman wore a white cloak under the dress, though the shadows that moved around her were... strange. Like seeing stars manipulated around a human body, or perhaps seeing Sabrina walk down a street... rather than float, I realised.

"Well, that's my loss," the dandy, Mr Wooster, laughed, handing us a wad of cash. "Oh, Marchioness Viola, Marchioness Olympia!"

"Mr Wooster," Viola teased. "Or should I say, Baron Yaxley?"

"Nah, I'm not that good," Mr Wooster demurred, cheerful to a fault. Beside him, the Klingklang rumbled. "But, I think Jarvis might be in need of a, erm, firmer hand."

"You are good Trainer." the purple-haired woman, Olympia, spoke. "Your Gallade knows what to do. Listen more to him."

"Many thanks, Lady Olympia!" Mr Wooster grinned, nodding. "Ah, have you met my opponents?"

"I inducted them into the Château," Viola assured. "Serena, Donar, this is my friend, Olympia. She's the Gym Leader of the Anistar City Gym, and she gives out the Psychic Badge."

"Nice to meet you," Serena nodded towards her. "I'm Serena Calme. Nice to meet you, Leader Olympia!"

"Donar Oak," I chipped in, cringing at the comparisons to come.

She looked at me with unfathomable eyes. "An ancient custom, deciding one's destiny." She then leaned closer. "The battle's begun."

I gaped as she walked off. "Erm..."

"She's a psychic," Serena clarified. She looked awed. "Well? What do you think?"

"I think Sabrina looks more terrifying."

"Ha!" Viola giggled. "Take a good look at her cape."

I turned to look. Olympia had stopped by to chat, which mostly consisted of her stopping to listen to some random guy deride something, before she pulled a Pokéball and then unleashed a Slowking, that used Power Gem and defeated the other guy. Her cloak had moved, fanning out such that-

"Are those... the stars?" I gaped.

Serena winked as I caught sight of the galaxy under her cape. "Olympia is known as 'the person who creates paths with starlight'. She's literally one of the Kalos region's biggest stars. She's beautiful."

"In a dark, macabre way," I added under my breath before looking down to my trio of Pokémon. "Frogadier, good job! I'll take you to dunk in the river, 'kay?"

"Frog!"

"Bulba!" Bulbasaur complained.

"I just fed you," I mumbled, perplexed, even as Fletchling hovered over and perched on the brim of my cap with a chirrup.

"Dinner was provided, right?" Viola murmured, eyeing the Fletchling trying to eat my hair.

"Ow! No!" I dissuaded Fletchling. "Yes, it was provided. They mooched off me."

"You give your Pokémon human food?" Serena sounded honestly confused.

"I'm going to make you ride outside your Pokéball," I growled towards Fletchling, who just squawked in offended distaste. "Sorry, Leader Viola, I've got to dunk Frogadier in water now."

"He looks like he'll become a good Greninja," Viola murmured as I manhandled Serena out of the Battle Château – "But battles!" "I don't care!" – and giggled. "You'll be at Parfum Palace tomorrow, right?"

"Huh, what?" I blinked once we were standing in the twilight of Rivière Walk. I hadn't caught a single thing Viola said.

"Viola mentioned that there's going to be a conference in Parfum Palace," Serena mentioned, stretching her legs.

I walked to the riverbank, released all of my Pokémon, and Frogadier made a splash jumping into the riverbank almost immediately. A stray Magikarp drifted away immediately as Frogadier opened its mouth to go into song. Well, croak into song. Right, lame puns over, I cupped my hand and began pouring a bit of water over Bulbasaur, who just made happy sounds. Fletchling stretched its wings, free to fly about for the moment.

A swarm – school? Horde? Something? – of Flabébé floated past, chattering happily. Serena considered them, before shaking her head. "No good..."

"Not going to get one?" I asked.

"I'd prefer a Pokémon that could carry its own weight," Serena mumbled. She had released her own Pokémon alongside mine; so far, she had three, too. Elmo snoozed by the sidelines, Pika cuddled by her, and Squirtle jumped into the riverbank alongside Frogadier to begin a splash fight, with Bulbasaur mediating.

"A Fairy?"

"Probably." Serena pondered. "That Granbull looked awful powerful. But I'd rather have something that's resistant to Poison and Steel, since the Type advantage is so common."

"Find a Steel/Fairy dual-type," I suggested, getting a dirty look thrown at me.

"Not so easy," Serena groaned, petting Pikachu. "You suck."

"Bulba!" Bulbasaur raged, offended as I took him to shield myself against the mad woman.

Somehow, we all started laughing, and then Bulbasaur took himself off to curl up against a pair of black booted feet. A pair of long hands picked him up, and Bulbasaur curled against those slender, deceptively strong arms as their fingers scratched his belly and head.

Idly, Dr du Bois evenly eyed our six Pokémon, who seemed to have ignored that their Trainers' laughter had died down. Beside her, Altair held that same, if rather dissimilar, expression. "You seemed to have fun. Viola inducted you into the Battle Château, I presume?"

"Y- Yeah," I stuttered. "How did you know?"

"Your Pokémon bears signs of the stress of battling continuously," Dr du Bois explained. "This Bulbasaur bulb is telling. Several new scratches. You should get it checked later at the Camphrier Centre."

"Y- Yes!" I shuddered. "Erm... how was your case?"

"Case?"

"Parfum Palace?" I waved a hand. "It's... none of my business, sorry..."

"The Pokémon would live," Dr du Bois blandly replied. "The Trainer... the same cannot be said when I am finished with him. Shall we retire for the night?"

"I'd rather stay outside," Serena replied, almost defensively before I could agree. "After all, we're licensed Trainers. You can't really stop us, right?"

There it was, a frozen sort of look. "No, I can't. The rooms are yours, if you'll return to them. Good night."

"Dr du Bois?" I blinked. "You're not staying at Hotel Camphrier?"

Her walk slowed. "I... I shall manage. Somehow."

When she said it like that, it felt like my heart should be growing about ten times bigger and breaking. How could a single voice sound so broken? Was this the human equivalent of the Perish Song? "Doc-"

"Finally!" Serena exclaimed loudly as a swarm of Volbeat and Illumise erupted, dancing across the river to which the route gained its name and then, they began dancing. The Firefly Pokémon began to draw their patterns, scattered sparks within the light.

A breeze blew, the lights of Volbeat and Illumise bobbing in the winds. "Dr du Bois?"

The dark head turned, from where its owner was about to leave, and green eyes greeted my view. One eyebrow was primed to rise, as if wondering.

I ignored Serena and called: "Why are Volbeat and Illumise both called the Firefly Pokémon?"

Altair looked up, at the skies of the dancing Pokémon, at the lights that dotted the curtain of night. Slowly, Dr du Bois cracked a smile that was bursting with life; I couldn't describe it. Not now. Not later. Not for the rest of my life, as the indefinable je ne sais quoi that Marguerite Linden du Bois held strong over me.

Even as she turned away, walking down the Rivière Walk with her head held high and Altair a silent dark sentinel, the dancing Volbeat and Illumise seemed like glitter to the shining jewel, leaves to a flower, the servants of a queen that deigned to let them free reign just for the summer night.

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