Savoir-faire – To Know and To Do

VII: Valser – To Waltz

Day 10: A night passes sleeplessly in the tall grass surrounding the Palais Lane. The summer night is chilly, yet I dared not return to either the palace or to Camphrier Town. The decision was taken out of my hands when Altair left the camp. I had no idea what for, and I wanted to grab Liz's Pokéball just in case a passing Honedge came I, but then my camp was uprooted and Altair appeared with Wikstrom. Wikstrom who bodily carried me back into the Parfum Palace.

According to Altair's guilty admissions, if I am too prideful to sleep where there was plenty of room, I deserved to get a cold, but there was no way he was going down with me. I thought Lucario were supposed to be loyal...

"Well, it is cold for the summer," was Drasna's assessment when I developed a cough come dawn.

I was not an early riser, despite ownership of the epitome of such in the name of Lucario. However, illness had made for a restless night, and the Elite Four had always made me feel rather... excluded. Drasna's motherly tutting grated, like I was not good enough to join them, despite having beaten them at their best again and again.

I moaned and sank my head into a soft pillow. "I know."

"Let's hope that Malva finds something that could handle colds well," Drasna continued, still smiling. "No point asking Siebold to make a consommé if you can't taste it, after all."

"No fish," I mumbled.

It was like ten years of alienation and four years of running had not happened. Then again, Drasna was more motherly than my own mother. My own mother had hied off to Johto or somewhere once I was settled on Île-de-l'arc, I had not seen her in a long time. Perhaps the fame of being mother of the Kalos Champion wore on her, or perhaps she could never stay away from racing for too long. I missed Rhyhorn, though. Rhyhorn had better taste than Mama. Was more affectionate than Mama. Did not seem to travel around and leave her daughter to make friends-

"Take this," Malva appeared, pushing something into my hands that I took a stray gulp of. The broth flowed easily down my throat, giving temporary relief to my itching nose.

"Why are you so nice to me?" I mumbled once the bowl was empty. "You hate me."

"Brat," Malva hissed. "I do, but Diantha's right. We need you to tell the entire world to piss off. Since you can't do that if you look on your deathbed, you need to recover enough to pass tonight."

I shook my head as Drasna took the bowl. "Altair? The Holo Caster, please."

Wordlessly, Altair picked up my bag and handed it to me. I typed out a message and sent it to Donar's device before clicking the home button and calling up the word processing program. "Show her this."

"What?" Malva blinked as her own Holo Caster beeped. She opened her own, reading the message I had sent. "This is..."

"Wrote this before I slept," I yawned, sneezing again. "It's the entire argument."

"It's... critical," Malva slowly echoed. "Of Trainers overall."

"It must be," I reasoned. "The main rational assumption behind such movements is that Trainers can better coordinate or manage governmental systems better. In fact, most Trainers are young, obsessed, and prone to battle more often than not, which makes for neither a stable economy nor political atmosphere. To hand a Trainer even more power than what is represented in the League would be economic suicide."

Besides, most forget that the one-on-one form of battling first originated as a substitute of civil wars between towns and regions. I suppose sending young men and women with their Pokémon around to challenge others until one came out as the last Trainer standing, to be crowned as representative of all of their region. It would be an interesting view, to speak of how battling affects politics-

"You're saying that as if we can't handle power," Malva snorted. "Lysandre would totally agree with you if he was still alive."

A corner of my lips twitched. "And how would you know what Lysandre would have agreed with, Malva? Your fans would be... burning to know."

The Fire-specialising Elite Four backed off with a theatrical bow. "Understood. So this is how would you argue that Trainers should not handle politics?"

"The method, while not wrong, did not account for what is wrong with the system," I articulated, pausing to blow my nose. "Since I'm being forced to do this, I might as well go the whole hog. Best debunk everything at the start rather than credit anyone more momentum."

"It's creepy, you know," Malva remarked. "How you haven't changed. At all. I thought ten years were supposed to make you taller, for one."

"I stopped growing at sixteen," I replied.

"It's just not possible. Who's your stylist? That must have been a really good facial."

"Coiffure Clips doesn't do facials," I retorted. "I am just like this. I have been since Geosenge."

"We would have made a beautiful world," Malva remarked, turning on her heel to leave.

"The word utopia has two meanings," I called behind her. "One means an ideal world... the other means no world."

My next visitor after they left was Wikstrom. The Steel Master still wore armour, and his Aegislash floated by him. "You worried us, princess. Kalos shall rejoice that its princess has returned."

"Not permanently returning," I clarified, feeling bad as I watched his hopeful expression fall. "I suppose you're getting a Klingklang soon?"

Wikstrom's expression remained grim, though certainly lighter. "Mr Wooster's Gallade valet has certainly hinted as to certain... issues that Mr Wooster might be facing regarding Jarvis."

"Bertie doesn't have the temperament," I agreed. "It takes a certain... something to handle Steel-type Pokémon. I don't understand how he ever managed without Jeeves, or when Jeeves was a Ralts or Kirlia."

"As I understand it, Jeeves has been following Mr Wooster for a long time."

"It's amazing," I agreed. "How a human in Bertie's circumstances could show anything remotely like slavish adoration of a Pokémon who's supposedly serving him. He's a very good friend."

"Mr Wooster, I suppose?" Wikstrom suggested with the air of a warrior about to face death.

"Mmm. Too bad all good men are gay or obsessed," I grimly broke the bad news.

The Steel blade of the Elite Four gave a hacking cough. "I- see."

"Tragic, really," I commiserated. "Siebold would have a better chance. What do you want, Wikstrom?"

"I wished to see how were you," he stoutly replied. "It has been years. A knight is concerned of his princess, after so long without even a hint."

"I am not a princess."

"You may as well be."

"Diantha is far more appropriate, then," I replied. "I am not La Pucelle. I just did what any Trainer would do then, and I succeeded beyond anyone's expectations."

"You are an able heroine."

"I don't want to be a heroine."

"Yet that you are," Wikstrom simply replied. Wikstrom was unusually suited as a Steel-type master, since arguing with him was far harder than rocks would ever be. The patience of Wikstrom would outlast even the lifespan of a Torkoal. "There are many who shall envy you, princess."

"I am not a princess," I mutinously replied.

"If you are able to protest, then you shall be able to attend this night," Wikstrom turned to face my bed, and thus me. "It shall be a gruelling one. Many anticipate the unification of Kalos and Unova to the alliance of Kanto, Johto, Hoenn and Sinnoh."

"Not going to happen," I assessed.

"Of course not," Wikstrom patiently agreed. "The last war left several ties soured between them and us, and also ended at a stalemate."

"... so that is why I am being summoned," I pondered. "The Champions of Unova and Kalos could hopefully show everyone that they are not to be overlooked."

"None of the Leagues would like anything to happen," Wikstrom sounded tense as he related the news. "The reason why such a conference is being held in Parfum Palace rather than on Indigo Plateau or Mount Silver is because of trust issues, apparently. Ever Grande City and Lily of the Valley Island does not seem keen to follow Indigo Plateau any longer."

"So this could be a chance to study if Unova and Kalos are getting together, as that was the cause of the stalemate of the Kanto alliance versus the Unovan-Kalos alliance," I reiterated the possible lines of thought. "War is not our domain, as the Lumiose Tower should know."

"Competing leagues are," Wikstrom answered. "And competing leagues are usually the first sign of war."

"What happened in the time I was away?" I shook my head. "War couldn't be threatened so easily."

"The discovery of the Fairy-type in Kalos unnerved many," Wikstrom related. "Especially since a good many Trainers specialise in Dragon-types. We have a Gym that specialises in that elusive type, and exclusive access to Type expertise. I believe that to be the reason."

"Types aren't everything!" I groaned.

"But they do make an important factor," Wikstrom reasoned. "Especially given the bloody history of the Unova and Kalos regions, and we are regions well-versed in the art of war. They see us as a danger."

"Who are they?" I asked.

"The other regions."

"Including Unova?" I scoffed. "The Century War was fought between Kalos and Unova for a reason."

"A dispute over the Kalosian throne aside, Unova and Kalos are much closer to each other than to the other four regions," Wikstrom explained. "An alliance such like us stands a chance of posing a threat to the Pokémon League mediated by Indigo Plateau."

I got out of bed immediately, reaching for my bag. "If this is true, then there must be an outside factor that accounts for such tensions between the regions. Altair, did I pack my blouse-"

"Princess!" Wikstrom hurriedly looked away, as I glanced down at myself.

"Is there a problem?" I archly questioned.

"P- Please warn me before-!" Wikstrom sputtered.

I looked to Altair, puzzled.

Clothing, he signalled.

I shrugged. "I don't understand sometimes. Kalosian men are stereotypically more lascivious than you, Wikstrom."

"I- It would do you no good to bare yourself before a complete stranger," the Elite Four Trainer murmured.

"Immaterial," I shrugged as I slipped into my underwear and pulled on the brassiere, closing the hooks easily behind me. "I have an unchanging body now. Why not display it?"

Altair eyed my left shoulder, which still bore the scarring of that Pokémon and its horned head spearing through. I wore similar patterns on my back, though the ones on my stomach had long healed. There was a permanent scar on my hip where it had been gored through, that Wikstrom pointedly did not look to. They did not hurt, and I had the nagging suspicion that if I ever forgot about them, they would disappear into the aether, a forgotten scar a Trainer had gotten in service of their Pokémon. I had failed mine, and I bore the scars in their memory.

"Are you done?" Wikstrom looked up, and straight where my hands were slipping a garter belt on. He swallowed, made for the door, paused for a brief moment, and then stoically walked out.

I saw him leave, and the door close. "Was it something I said?"

"You just enjoy upsetting him," Altair communicated.

"Nudity is a concept I got over a while ago," I muttered, picking up a tub of blonde hair dye. "Perhaps that is another mark that separates me from them."

"Or perhaps Wikstrom does hold more than the platonic, as you have long believed."

"Love is ever sweet, is it not?" I reflected on the knight that had taught me to fight with Pokémon once. "But to reflect on it is dangerous."

"To want a life for yourself is not bad."

"Until this curse is lifted, Altair, all the bonds I make are doomed to fail," I replied quietly as I began to dye my dark hair. "All I shall be left with are the memories instead."

The result of utilising blonde hair dye with my newly black hair left it as a dark honeyed colour, my original look before I had gone into hiding as my falsified sister-in-law. I had wanted to use my blue contact lenses, but my green eyes were slightly less rare in exotic Unova and Kalos than compared to homogeneous Kanto, Johto or Hoenn.

I turned around slowly, balancing on one foot before I put on the rest of my clothing after my newly honey-coloured hair had dried. The pleated plaid skirt of red and white, with the red tie-neck blouse. White socks rolled out to just over the knee, and I stepped into the bow shoes that matched it.

A bit of straightening later, I took my belt and buckled it with some give. The skirt flared as I turned before the mirror I found in the room, somehow pondering if Augustine had broken into my house to get this exact piece in my size.

A knock resounded. "Enter."

That armour clanked hesitantly. "Are you... dressed, princess?"

"Yes," I answered as Altair opened the door.

The Elite Four member stopped in the doorway, staring at me. I had taken my backpack, swinging it over my shoulder in a gesture of defiance. His jaw went slack, and his eyes sparked, but in a moment the spark was lost.

"You are leaving?"

I unslung the bag, handing it to him. "It'll be your head if anything is lost from it."

Wikstrom smiled as he accepted it. "I shall guard this with my life."

I really wasn't meant to be there. I don't know what I was thinking. Better yet, I didn't know what Serena was thinking, dragging us to Parfum Palace just on the strength of the word 'tournament'.

"There's a big gathering starting at the Palace!" Serena nagged. "Aren't you curious? Even Trainers from outside Kalos would be there!"

We walked down a tree-lined path, the quiet serenity of the walkway soon lending itself to noise on the other end of the path. I passed girls and boys and young and old alike, all of them gathered around the palace like moths to a flame in night.

The palace was... well, take a really large mansion, really large, pour buckets of gilt over it and maybe cover walls and floor in gold, and it still wouldn't have matched the sheer wealth that Parfum Palace displayed. There was a corps of servants on hand, directing unsuspecting tourists and Trainers towards the ridiculously large back courtyard.

What really caught me was the two statues that lined the centre of the courtyard. The one I stood by was white, wings outspread. It faced the black statue at the far end, both dragons looking like they would clash in battle. Little Pokéball statues lined the corners and sides, and a large fountain stood between the two, but no one gave them any attention; window dressing they were to the spectacle that was immortalised in stone.

Reshiram and Zekrom; truth and ideals personified, and somehow the sculptor made them look alive and standing in the courtyard of Parfum Palace. I noticed most Trainers give the statuary a wide berth; I guessed that they were not the only ones to be freaked out by the statuary.

The statuary and central fountain marked points in the courtyard paths, lining out four sectors. Even on the ground level, I could tell that each sector would have hedges arranged to display a different scene, and a passing Trainer remarked that the second-floor balcony would give a full aerial view. I was about to tell Serena this, but then I heard Shauna nearby:

"Donar! Serena!" The girl herself leapt from the crowd. A bunch of what look like Cottonee Candy regularly made its way into her mouth from the stick in her hand, and she was smiling. "You're here!"

That Cottonee candy must have been the size of her head, I thought as she continued eating it. "Erm, Dr du Bois stopped here to examine a sick Pokémon or something. She dragged us along, and we're just hanging around."

"Do you know where to sign up for the tournament?" Serena asked hurriedly, glancing around.

"Ah, that," Shauna smiled. "So you're being a good boyfriend, eh?"

"No!" I cut in. "Definitely not!"

"Great!" Serena declared, cutting in. "Donar, come here!"

"I am not signing that," I refused the moment she produced the registration form.

"I say, what-ho there!" A dandy suddenly kidnapped me away from the crazy woman who advanced on me. I looked up, gaping at the dandy whose Granbull I had fought with the crazy Klingklang.

"You looked like you could use some help there, what with the battleaxe there, eh?" he winked good-naturedly.

"Erm, thanks..." I paused. "Bar-"

"None of that aristocratic stuff outside the Château," he warned, blue eyes twinkling under the blue fedora that matched his blue suit. "Name's Wooster, Bertie Wooster, old chap. Yaxley's just the family title."

"Where are we going?" I asked as he dragged me into a crowd.

"She's going to come upon us," Bertie winked before he suddenly let go of me, saying loudly: "Awfully sorry, old sport, you looked real familiar. Just can't for the life of me think who you are. Is your name D'Arcy, perchance?"

"No," I flatly replied.

Bertie nodded, lifting his hat in an oddly gentlemanly manner. At the same time, a Gallade appeared by his side. "The preparations are complete, sir."

"'Lo, Jeeves!" Bertie greeted. "Right then, this here's Jeeves, my absolutely spiffing valet and butler and generally runs my life. Jeeves, Donar Oak. Met him at the you-know-where down Rivière Walk."

"Indeed, sir." Turning to me, the Gallade nodded. "Mr Oak."

"Hey, what gives?!" Serena burst upon the scene.

"I apologise for my master," Jeeves continued. "It appears that he has mistaken your friend Mr Oak for another old acquaintance from the Kanto region."

"I'm fine!" I assured Shauna. "Erm, Mr Wooster-"

"Call me Bertie," Bertie corrected, boyish though he must be well in his thirties now. "Everyone does. Well, 'cept the nephew-crusher, who dances nude by the light of the full moon in arcane ritual and what-not. What-ho!"

"Alright..." Serena nodded, slowly buying to the look of harmless, albeit rather airheaded innocence. "Hey, we met you once! The guy with the crazy Klingklang!"

"Ah, Jarvis," Bertie placed a hand upon his chest dramatically. "After the disaster that was our match, Hennessy wouldn't let him back. Left him up the creek, you know. I had to do as Jeeves advised and leave Jarvis in able hands."

"As I had advised, sir, that M. Wikstrom was quite willing and able to handle Jarvis,"the Gallade added, like the straight man in a comedy duo. "I did express some lack in your ability to handle Steel-type Pokémon, as no doubt Mr Stark was well aware."

"Right ho, Jeeves," Bertie flippantly answered. "We'll just toodle along, then."

"He speaks like an Unovan," Shauna commented as man and Gallade left.

"A bit odd," Serena agreed, before tugging at my sleeve. "Come on, the tournament's starting!"

Two of Hoenn's representatives, a woman in a flight suit and a man in a foppish hat, shirt and purple pants, were present by the judges' table; I knew that they were from Hoenn only because the commentator kept harping on it. Serena was more obsessed that the man was the Hoenn Champion. I was more stunned, because I kept comparing him and her.

"It's so romantic, isn't it?" Shauna pressed. "I heard that Wallace actually gave up the Hoenn League and took over the Sootopolis Gym just to be near Winona. Until he became Champion again, that is."

"I'm trying to figure out why is she with him," I specified. "She could do a lot better."

"I think she rejected him once..." Shauna awkwardly continued.

"Good for her," I firmly stated.

"Elmo, Fire Spin!" Serena ordered as we discussed by the sidelines. After that preliminary charge, it looked like Elmo was in for a Psychic slog with its opposing Meowstic.

Aside from Wallace and Winona, there was another guy-girl duo bearing the Hoenn badge on some part of their clothings; I noticed because the guy started fanboying as the Unovan Gym Leader Elesa appeared, causing the girl to sock him in the face and drag him away. There were also two old men, one nearly bald and bellowing with laughter as the matches went on, the other in navy wear grumbling.

The Sinnoh region's presence was marked with their Champion Cynthia, clothed in black and twice as forbidding, with a bookish-looking guy with purple hair that Shauna told me was Lucian of the Sinnoh Elite Four, as well as a spiky-haired blond in a blue suit that needed no explanation to be fingered as Volkner, the infamous Shining Shocking Star of Sunyshore City. They gave no indication or greeting, but one of the old men, Volkner, and Elesa, gathered for a brief discussion.

Kanto and Johto representatives appeared; I nearly had a coronary as, with Champion Lance appeared Koga of the Indigo Elite Four, Sabrina and Lieutenant Surge of Vermilion City. Sabrina, outside of Saffron City? Much less, Lieutenant Surge?

Surge went to join the Electric-Type Gym Leaders, bellowing at stray Trainers who scarped from his sight quickly.

From the second floor balcony, I could spot the assembly of people, watching the show from down above. Occasionally one would give way, and a red-haired bespectacled woman, a smiling woman with tusks for earrings so large I could see them from my vantage point, a man in white, and another guy in honest-really knight's armour watching the battles rage. All of them seemed to sport tension, a hidden hunger, something like a reflection of a desire to battle.

Elmo, Squirtle, and Pika were exhausted when Serena was finally kicked out of the tournament by a stray Magical Leaf from a Chikorita, and now Serena was giving them an obligatory cool-down outside of their Pokéballs. I indicated up and asked.

"Oh, them?" Serena squinted, before gasping. "Oh, right, Donar, you're not from Kalos, so sorry. My dad mentioned them. The Kalos Elite Four."

I stared at her, before waving towards the blond man in white. "The Kalos region's strongest Trainers, along with representatives from other regions? What the hell?"

"Siebold's the blond," Serena identified. "Drasna is the smiling one, Malva the red-haired, and the guy in armour's obviously Wikstrom. I'm hungry, let's go get something to eat."

There were no stalls; instead, vendors pushed their stuff in little carts by the paths. Lunch was fast food and Pokémon chow; the latter obviously not for me, though the Coke I washed down lunch with tasted like it was watered, and I suspected that the vendor's Glaceon was sleeping amongst the bottles.

The sun was high in the sky by the time the background music swelled to a sudden crescendo, and cut off when she appeared. She appeared on the second floor balcony, a vision in white. Brown hair braided into a chignon at the back of her head, and the collar of her jacket flared out to frame her head, emphasising her against the balcony. Framing her on either side were the Elite Four; Malva and Wikstrom on her left, Drasna and Siebold on her right. Say what you liked, but she made a hell of an entrance.

Lance stood. Wallace got up. Cynthia evenly stared up at Diantha. A small, purple-haired girl stepped out from the crowd to face Diantha, her face set as she joined Elesa.

"Welcome, one and all," Diantha spoke, seemingly without a microphone, her voice bouncing around the courtyard. "If you recognise me, then there is no need to know my name. I presume that everyone knows my name anyway."

This greeted a bout of laughter; who could miss the movie star and Pokémon Champion, Diantha?

"Trainers of Kalos, Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh and Unova," Diantha listed. "Today, you must have wondered why so many luminaries have gathered here, in the courtyard of the Kalos region's historic Parfum Palace. Why we hold a tournament free for all to enter on this day. Today we celebrate history, as well as a mystery."

A murmur ran through the crowd at those cryptic words.

"None of that," Diantha dismissed. "Today might be the anniversary of the start of the infamous cross-regional Wars centuries past, but today we also celebrate the gift of peace. Today, we have gathered the Electric-type experts of each region, and the founder of the Pokémon Storage System, to update the Pokémon Transporter. In short, we will soon facilitate the transfer of trained Pokémon across regions and waters."

Cheers and whoops, and quite a few tourists celebrated.

"So that's why all the Electric-Type Gym Leaders are here," Shauna squealed. "I can bring my lil' Chespin to Unova!"

"Trust you to choose the most fashion-oriented region to go on your first choice," I snarked to hide my utter suspicion. Not that improving the Pokémon Storage System was a bad idea, but then why choose this place to announce it?

"Also..." Diantha waved an arm elegantly. "Today in history marked the start of the Wars, wars that still erupt now and then in skirmishes. Today also marks the origin of the Pokémon Leagues."

At this, Diantha met all the Champions' glances, masterful and clearly the centrepiece amongst luminaries as whispers gathered.

"What seemed a thousand years ago, towns, regions, people alike were at war," Diantha related. "Kalos itself has known war intimately, historically. Within this series of wars, towns that developed eventually decided on a system to prove their worth as Trainers of Pokémon. Each town chose a young Trainer, and their Pokémon. That Trainer would begin on a journey, sweeping through each town on their way to a single spot. They would begin to do battle with these Pokémon, and the last one standing would be Champion. That was the origin of the Pokémon journey."

Ancient history Diantha might be relating, but somehow, there was an undercurrent of restlessness between Trainers as she spoke. Iris looked around the balcony there, fidgeting, eyes wide as she shared eyes with Elesa and the other Champions, who held similar looks of stupefied shock.

"These small-scale civil wars would become codified in Gyms, and these Gyms produced outstanding Trainers that also became Champions and the Elite Four," Diantha continued. "The Gyms were codified, their leaders became the luminaries of each town. Rules developed, and the forerunners of the Pokémon League were codified in every region, on top of what makes them unique in culture, landmarks, climate, people. In this, though today we embrace peace, the remnant of war remains amongst us. It is with the Pokémon League Conferences today that civil wars are prevented. Yet, inter-regional wars remain a threat, a boiling pot that may spill over and burn us all. At the heart of this all is the Leagues of Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, and Kalos. Several of the crème de la crème of each region have fought against others, of different regions, and not all of it was in friendly battle."

At this, tensions seemed to rise, Trainers exchanging glances, doubts, discussions, whispers.

"We're not soldiers!" one female Trainer irately yelled.

The noise was almost deafening before Diantha raised her hand to call for silence.

"It is not an easy truth, I realise," Diantha serenely related. "To know that all of your Pokémon battles emulate the old regional wars. Nevertheless, it is our history. It is the blood-stained history, the thousands of Pokémon that have given their lives, towards the safeguarding of dreams from the horrors of warfare. To those who forget, they are the lowest of Trainers, who have forgotten the bonds of their Pokémon and the price Trainers and Pokémon alike before them have paid. Those who forget that this peace cost them lives, and would discard that truth in exchange for their ideals, are the lowest of the low."

Diantha looked away, for only a brief moment, before she stared out at all of us once more. "I hope that this message shall be imparted to all of you."

I stared as the Champion of Kalos stepped back. That effortless charisma, that warm power was that of a natural leader, of perhaps a queen that considered all of her subjects. A chorus of cries resounded, and I was tugged back. I was about to exclaim, but the whoosh of a passing Togekiss stole my breath away.

Cynthia, distant and powerful, was astride that Togekiss, and as it floated up she leapt down and landed on her feet on to balcony, staring at Diantha evenly. A Hydreigon bellowed with all three of its heads, and quite a few Trainers backed as Iris joined Cynthia in taking over the balcony stage. Wallace staged a dramatic entrance by walking in from behind, Winona's Altaria at his side. Lance just appeared, unsteady on his feet. I looked around, spotting Koga grin towards his former colleagues. The implications as he shot a look towards the balcony in some animated discussion were staggering.

A slow clap resounded, and I saw Cynthia turn around and regard the source of the clapping, a familiar dandy wearing a grey hat. Bertie must have laughed at her returning comment, for several other Trainers began clapping, and some began whistling, and one joker even climbed a pole to shout encouragement.

"Many thanks to the regional Champions of our fellow regions for that show of solidarity," Diantha related. "I hope that they will show the same amount of support for my successor as they have done for me."

"Successor?" Serena echoed amidst various murmurs. "Someone's already beaten the Champion?"

"Or, on second thought, 'successor' would not be the appropriate word," Diantha continued. "Ten years ago, during the fall of Team Flare, the Kalos Champion disappeared during the aftermath. The heroine of Kalos, the Maiden of Notre Dame, you know her by those names. A legendary Trainer whose talent only comes once a generation, whose entered the Hall of Fame at twelve and reigned undefeated for the four years that she sat within the Radiant Chamber."

"She went missing," Serena pronounced flatly, her eyes wide. "It's not possible. There's no way that she would appear here, Dad said that she disappeared!"

"You know who is Diantha talking about?" Shauna enquired in confusion.

"Of course I know!" Serena hotly exclaimed. "I grew up hearing stories about her! The Trainer that Dad lost to again and again, the girl that arrived new to Kalos, and yet became its Champion within two years – the girl Trainer, Daisy Linden!"

Petals danced in the wind, a tornado of force that blew past any and all present. Light flashed, before, in the midst of the crowd, she appeared, standing on the ground, equal to all of us Trainers.

It was only for that passing second, a beacon amidst the courtyard, before a dazzling gleam caused us to look away from its brilliance. I could not have seen her, neither er face nor her bearing, not to speak of any identifying features as she winked out of sight.

Yet, there she had been, her impression stronger than any other Champion; a ghost that eclipsed even the living.

"T- There was a woman, right?" A male Trainer spoke up, inviting a boatload of murmurs.

"Yeah, there was..."

"That was the Kalos Champion?"

"I didn't see her face..."

"Look! A Pokémon!"

There, standing amongst them, was a Lucario, posture ramrod straight and tail barely swishing. A red and yellow scarf curled around its neck as it just stood, a coloured statue within a courtyard littered with grey stone.

"That's Altair," I realised.

"Altair?" Shauna exclaimed.

"Dr du Bois's Lucario," I clarified, confused.

One of the Trainers present stood up. "What? Where's your Trainer?"

"Cario."

It took me a moment to comprehend that Altair had actually spoken. The telepathic Pokémon was emphatically not using its skill to communicate. From the expression on the Lucario's admittedly inexpressive face, it did not wish to.

"Should we remove it?" the Champions turned to each other.

"Can't be helped..." Cynthia muttered, releasing her own Lucario. It leapt down, and both Lucario faced each other before Cynthia's Lucario looked up to its Trainer. Whatever it was, it caused Cynthia to recall the Lucario back to its ball and shake her head.

"Sorry," a woman with her blonde hair tied up, sweating in a tie-neck blouse and a kilted red skirt slowly walked up, adjusting her red hat as she did so. "Today was a chance to show off, though, so his carer had to rush all the way here with his Pokéball. We're still getting used to each other. He seems interested in your aura, Indigo Champion Wataru."

I watched as Altair reached out a paw, accepting her left arm in the same soothing, assisting gesture that I had seen him take with Dr du Bois. My suspicion rose as the pair disappeared into Parfum Palace, only to reappear on the balcony with the others. I could not see Daisy Linden, but that suspiciously protective gesture...

"You are..." Lance blustered.

"Your Lucario explained the circumstances," Cynthia said, almost gently. "Your stamina is unaffected, yes?"

"I'm sorry for the trouble," she explained. "I usually leave Altair with my sister-in-law for exercise, but we're still getting used to each other. Friends don't find it easy to be apart, but in the state I am, I can't give Altair the training he needs to maintain himself for long stretches or long battles."

Having heard that explanation, having seen Altair's protective gestures, I could already piece together the reason for the speed at which Altair moved, as which the Lucario fought to finish a battle as soon as possible, even to go as far as to permanently maim a Pokémon. "That guy... so that's why he fought so harshly. To protect his Trainer..."

"Sister-in-law... that means that Dr du Bois is related to the Kalos Champion!" Shauna exclaimed.

"Never mind that!" Serena screeched. "But that someone married that hag?!"

"Serena..." I hissed.

Diantha stepped forth. "The real Champion of Kalos, Daisy Linden."

This declaration was met with an uproar.

"Hold on!"

"Then doesn't this mean that we could have had to fight six continuous battles?!"

"Explain, Diantha!"

From the side, Wikstrom released a pink – pink! – Pokémon that resembled a series of keys. The keys jangled together in a move that I would know later as Metal Sound, but which currently caused a racket such as to shut out most of the chatter altogether.

"Many apologies," Daisy said, facing the crowd. "I would have liked to answer that no, the requirements should you have defeated Madame Diantha would have been fulfilled. However, that would have insulted the dreams of many a Trainer who stands with us today. To be the best is to defeat the best master battler in the region, and not just to defeat the Elite Four and Madame Diantha. The point, however, seems to be moot, since no one has gotten past the Elite Four..."

"They say that Wikstrom got really vicious right after she left," Shauna commented, watching the armoured Master Steel-type Trainer looming by Daisy up there. One good thing about Shauna, was that even as a crappy Trainer, she seemed right on top of all the best gossip. "Daisy Linden is alive. Mum would be happy."

"... and with these concluding remarks, I hope that we will usher in an era as far removed from inter-regional war," Daisy finished whatever speech she had been making. Whatever it was, it caused quite an avalanche as a horde of Trainers clearly from Kalos began to charge.

"The woman..." Serena fisted a Pokéball. "Why... why didn't she ever approach Dad? That woman... she claims that she's weak, but she's standing right there, with the elites of the Pokémon world-"

The Champions disbanded, descending at last, some approached by reporters, others retiring towards the food stalls, and Serena took off with Shauna and I following. We skidded to a stop as Serena released Elmo, confronting both Daisy Linden and Altair within the glided hallways of Parfum Palace, right by the giant Milotic statue of pure gold.

"You were her Pokémon all along!" Serena was screaming at them. "You were her Pokémon, and you...!"

Up close, Daisy Linden was an average beauty. Not that she did not pull off the tie-neck blouse preppy look well, with her bow shoes and white knee socks to match with her hat, but she was hardly as luminous as, say, that Unovan Gym Leader Elesa, or the Sinnoh Champion Cynthia. Now, though, she looked thoroughly confused, and not at all like the regal Champion she had projected. "I'm... sorry..."

"I'm Serena Calme!" Serena yelled, drawing attention towards them. "Calem Calme's daughter! Your rival's daughter, that rival that you never acknowledged!"

Daisy now looked politely bewildered. "C- Calem got married...? I- I see..."

"He searched for you," Serena spoke through gritted teeth. "He climbed the Mamoswine Road, he dove into the Frost Cavern, he braved the jungles of Kiloude and the forests of Santalune to find you. He wasn't alone; Shauna's mother, Tierno's and Trevor's parents, they wanted to find you so badly!"

"Your mother?" I turned to face Shauna's solemnly dark features.

"My mother," Shauna admitted. "I was named after her. She died five years ago, with Tierno's and Trevor's parents in the Frost Cavern."

"Oh," Daisy echoed.

"That's all you can say?!" Serena yelled at her. "That three of your friends died to find you, and all you can do is say 'oh'?! Or are you as emotionally constipated as that Lucario of yours?"

Altair bristled visible, and Elmo tensed, sizing up Altair. Despite that a Braixen held a visible type advantage in this situation, Altair was still a Champion's Pokémon, and a key Pokémon if all indication was clear. Maybe as a Delphox it would have been a more even battle, but as it were...

"I- I don't know," Daisy shuddered. "M- May we go somewhere private to talk?"

"You ignored my father for the past ten years," Serena snapped. "You won't go and see him?"

"I- I'm a bit occupied at present," Daisy pressed. "Why don't we-"

"We settle this here!" Serena ordered. "Elmo, Fire Spin!"

"Altair!" Daisy screamed.

The Lucario was already present beside Elmo, and as I watched, it began raining a hail of punches that was over as soon as it began.

Altair had backed to right beside its Trainer, its lips defensively curled into a snarl, more of an ancient retainer than any Pokémon battler. Elmo fell over, the stick in its hand clattering with a thud.

"T- That was Close Combat!" I gaped, fumbling with my PokéDex to confirm it. Close Combat: The user fights the target up close without defending itself.

"Altair!" Unlike Dr du Bois, Daisy actually looked visibly distressed. "I- I'm so sorry for my partner, he's very protective. I'm really sorry about your Braixen!"

Shakily, Serena recalled Elmo's fallen form into its Pokéball, still staring at the growling Lucario with shaken eyes. "You're a monster."

"I... I have a reason for not approaching Calem," Daisy hung her head as security guards surrounded us. "I'm very sorry. Guards... someone please take the Trainer and her Pokémon to the Camphrier Centre, hurry!"

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