Savoir-faire – To Know and To Do

Edited: 5 May 2014

XIV: Regarder – To Watch

Day 21: Donar has established a form of training. Well, he calls it training, but the local Dwebble still beat his four members four out of five times. At least, he is learning strategy.

Darkrai and Altair engage in mock battles, however they seem to be getting along. I do not think any other members of opposing types would have gotten along so well, though I suspect it is partly due to that neither of them are typical of their species. Everyone of us does something against their nature to be useful.

It took the better part of two hours, but we worked out a system between Noël and Donar. Noël had to train the Tentacool, Scylla, and Donar needed practice in true battles. In the pursuit of such, my Pokémon were relegated to referees, enforcers, and cooks. It amazes me continually, the inability of young boys to cook.

"It's cold," Donar hissed as Borealis let out an Aurora Beam towards Frogadier, who circled and let out a Water Pulse before it collapsed, having been stabbed by Toxic Spikes left by Scylla earlier in the battle.

"Look, you have no defence against entry hazards," Noël explained patiently. "Grant's a tough cookie, you can take that from someone who's met the guy. You might have taken down Scylla, but after that you haven't thought of a single solution, and that's why Borealis can stand for so long. You need to try and plan out in the long-term."

"But I don't know what to plan!" Donar nearly screamed.

"Ba! Bagon!" Bagon cheered as Liz flew to attend to the fallen Frogadier, an Antidote in hand.

"Okay, Donar... what are the characteristics of rocks?" Noël asked once I deemed with a practised eye the state of Frogadier. "Slow, heavy, hard-hitting. You can assume that you have the advantage with Frogadier's jumping power, but they can corner you, and they can also use speed-lowering moves, as well as possibly entry hazards."

"Yeah..." Donar looked blank.

"Then, to defeat them, your Frogadier needs to be more hard-hitting," Noël explained. "Fletchinder is going to sit this one out, no matter what. So, while you're going to train Bulbasaur and Frogadier, I recommend you ask Fletchinder to train Bagon in Ember, and then try using Bulbasaur and Frogadier in a battle against each other."

"Eh?" Donar blinked.

"Can you recall all of your Pokémon's moves?" came the reply. "Right now, you're still inexperienced. These times are to familiarise yourself with your Pokémon."

"Right..." Donar looked down. "Thank you for the advice."

A beginner. I understood that the whole point of a journey is to find that one niche that you fit in, but a boy with the barest inkling of any Pokémon to raise... no, that was the mindset of a Trainer. A dedicated soul who had found and lost her goal in life. It was not the objective mindset of a researcher.

"Are you a Gym Leader?" Noël suddenly broke into the conversation, having left Donar to run between a mock battle between Frogadier and Bulbasaur.

"No," I sharply answered.

"Are you intending to be one?"

I eyed the boy, who looked prepared to fight me. I reflected upon his team and his ambitions. "No."

Noël smiled, relaxed in the knowledge that I was not about to snatch the Snowbelle Gym from him. "For a researcher, your team is horrendously strong. A Lucario who can predict all the auras within five hundred metres radius, a Floette who can conjure a Misty Terrain and still fight without breaking a sweat while healing other fallen Pokémon, and a Darkrai at your heels... for all I know, you could just be moonlighting as a researcher."

I produced my name-card. "Marguerite Linden du Bois, Ph. D., Sycamore Pokémon Laboratory, Social Sciences Division. If you still have questions, you may take your questions to the École Normale Supérieure de Kalos, North Boulevard. They shall remember me."

"E- Eh?" Noël spluttered, holding the card close and squinting. "You're a real researcher?!"

"What were you thinking?" I sneered, looking back to our temporary camp base. We had been here for two days, and today I had set Crystal, Fletchinder and Bagon to use by practising their Ember on the campfire with the Dutch oven suspended over it. The pot-au-feu I was intending to tutor Donar in placed the bones I had bought from the Ambrette butcher to an early use, but it also meant long boiling. Placing the campfire away from the camp this time also made sure that an errant Ember was not about to set our camp on fire.

"I thought... I thought you were like those crazy assistants of Professor Sycamore's..." Noël swallowed. "You're a real researcher?"

"Depends if you consider the arts and social sciences something worth researching upon," I shrugged. "Right now, I am following Donar Oak under my research to find exemplary anecdotes of the path of a beginning Trainer and the social forces that govern such a path."

"Social forces?" Noël echoed, watching Donar try to coordinate Bulbasaur and Frogadier attacking at the same time.

"During a single journey, there will be many meetings and many partings," I replied. "Yet, these events leave their mark upon all of us. Take for example, that boy. Within a day of meeting you, he has thought of a strategy to reach Grant, and thus evolved further. Is that not a social force? When he enters a town, and interacts with the people on his way there, do they not leave some lasting memory upon him? This research can give insight upon the motivations of criminal organisations."

"I didn't know that it was worth investigating," Noël snorted in disgust.

"The currently accepted theory of criminal deviance stems from the idea of social control," I commented, ignoring his jab. "It suggests that deviance occurs when a person's or group's attachment to social bonds is weakened. According to this view, people care about what others think of them and conform to social expectations, because of their attachments to others and what others expect of them. Socialisation is therefore important in producing conformity to social rules, and it is when this conformity is broken that deviance occurs. Social control theory focuses on how deviants are attached, or not, to common value systems, and what situations break people's commitment to these values. This theory also suggests that most people probably feel some impulse towards deviant behaviour at some time, but their attachment to social norms prevents them from actually participating in deviant behaviour."

My hair was caught by a passing wind as I turned towards Noël Duval. "Now consider that most Trainers, who travel alone or in small groups, have little to no chance at human socialisation and often do not form meaningful bonds within geographical proximity. Keeping that in mind, would the radical mindsets of criminal organisations like Team Rocket and Team Flare stem from deviance, or are they simply the product of our own society?"

I left Noël to stew, my booted feet climbing on the rocks that littered the Muraille Coast to reach on the same plateau where the blue-cream form of my oldest living partner. My legs crossed before I arranged myself into the lotus position and considered the Muraille Coast quietly.

The waves that shatter rock over the ages were inaudible, a thrum of the Ambrette Cliffs felt only by skin and aura. Floating above, Darkrai appeared from the shadows. The sea. The sun.

"If it hurts, return to the shadows," I answered lightly.

I am one of Arceus's creations. The light of the stars are within my grasp. Darkrai turned his single cold eye upon me. What are you two doing?

"Meditation," I answered. "The art originated in your homeland, if I'm not wrong. The Riolu line, as well, are first discovered in the Sinnoh region."

The Lucario is meditating, certainly. You are not.

"You have a talent for stating the obvious," I remarked. "The ability of Calm Mind to increase its user's power simply from calming down is remarkable. I suppose taking a step back is the correct solution."

Both of you... Altair turned his head to glare at us. It is at these times that I wonder if you truly comprehend the meaning of the word.

"The point of meditation is to shut out all external influence," I corrected. "If you cannot shut out Darkrai and I, then how would you handle the chaos of the battlefield?"

Semantics are not at stake. Merely peace of mind.

I could barely give a witty reply, entertained as I was with a mental snort of laughter. From Darkrai.

A Fighting-type Pokémon requires peace of mind? I believed that your type settled all fights with fists.

This from a Dark-type Pokémon? My fearless Lucario answered. I am part-Steel.

So you left behind that rashness when you evolved?

I changed. Which is far more than you could say.

"Both of you, stop," I declared. "For now, where should we go? Altair, I know you want to visit Shalour City, and Darkrai, you don't have enough information..."

I froze, staring at the map I was pulling out of my bag. I sighed as I put it back and took out a battery pack. "We'll cover travel arrangements later. First I should do my work."

What would that achieve? Darkrai looked in curiosity as I began to type out, in a separate folder from the daily journal, my thoughts and the listed social forces.

"Darkrai..." I paused. "You are the first legendary Pokémon I believe in, and the third I have seen in my life. If you exist, I feel at peace that the legendary Pokémon truly comprehend the pain of living."

I have only known loneliness for my fate, and I cannot change that. The Pitch-Black Pokémon relayed. You are human, and intelligent, and talented. You could go anywhere. Even with the curse, you could do things only I could dream of.

"Thank you," I whispered, still typing. "I am very grateful. However, for an immortal, why have you sought to learn something you can never achieve?"

We Darkrai can die. The status of a legendary Pokémon, that is an arbitrary position you humans have bequeathed upon a select number of us. Some are more powerful, and some could be immortal, but in the end we are what we are. I wish to learn, to make something.

"The soul of an explorer..." I commented. "Answer; in your opinion, why do people lie?"

They have an agenda.

"Precisely," I agreed. "Humans can lie, cheat, stab and kill, in their search for personal happiness or a goal of their own. Some pursue immortality, as a means to happiness and a fear of death. I believe that it is the very fear of death, that drives humanity to such heights, in the beliefs that they would leave something worthwhile in the world. The fear of death... the curse has stolen something that has made me human."

I looked to the sun overhead, the sun that will, eventually, die too. "That was the turning point. Since that day, I've lived a lie: the lie of living. My name was a lie. My history, a lie. My dead partners, the death of my team, a lie taken over by the Pokémon League. I was sick to death of a world that couldn't be changed, but I could not give up in the despair of a lie. Sooner or later, I will cease to care whether the world shall live or not. Time will pass, that people will be born and will die, that buildings and institutions fall, that the world shall pass... and I no longer care."

Then what will you do?

I turned to Darkrai, and smiled. Something in my smile must have been off, for the Pokémon flinched. "Legendary Pokémon... even a legend is not immune to judgement."

Darkrai slowly inched away, to hide behind Altair. Your owner has questionable sanity, just saying.

Altair sounded pensive as he looked to me. I know.

Our conversation was abandoned later as we had to descend to camp and prepare, Donar and his Pokémon already resting in whatever shade the sunset would bring.

"Well, then," I remarked to the exhausted teen. "Today we will be making pot-au-feu."

"Not rice?" Donar paled.

I just sighed. After the incident with the Clauncher, it was clear that, while the boy accepted that some Pokémon were eaten on a routine basis, rice would be a substitute for anything.

"It's basically throwing whatever we have on hand into the pot to cook," Noël explained cheerfully. "Your Fletchinder and Bagon have been practising their Embers on the thing, so we thought we might as well put them to use. At least while they can hit a standing target."

"The day after tomorrow is moving targets," I agreed. "But for now,, comfort food."

Noël Duval had Oran berries and, for some reason, pine nuts, which I wrapped in foil and threw into the fire to toast. The smell of cracking pine was intense as Donar rooted through his pack and came up with a pack of crackers. "Can I use this?"

"Yes."

Instead of bread, we used the crackers to serve the marrow, balanced in texture and taste with the rough salt and the crackers. Darkrai was spinning about some unseen axis, crunch-crunch-crunch sounds echoing around him.

"This is good!" Donar exclaimed later. "Doctor, how do you know so many recipes?"

"This is freaking insane," Noël agreed, dropping bits of crackers and marrow for Scylla to grab onto and eat in the bucket. "We're supposed to be roughing it, and yet we're eating like it's a five-star hotel every day."

"I had a picky Pokémon-"

Delphi would have roasted the marshmallows to charcoal briquettes, leaving him as the only consumer. Altair and Delphi would have fought over the marshmallows, and Deneb would end up refereeing the fight because he was the only one with no stake, being unable to consume marshmallows or refined sugar-

"To feed him, I learnt to cook well on a camping stove," the answer sounded hollow to me. "I mastered the skill over the years."

"Whatever, this is good!" Donar spoke through a mouthful. "You could set up a café with this!"

Despite myself, I chuckled, indulging the whims of an ignorant boy. There were road carts in Kalos that would surpass the highest standards of Kanto cooking. "You know, once upon a time the legs of a Frogadier were regarded as the highest delicacy of pre-Revolution Kalos. Cuisses de grenouilles was very popular. And when you cook it, the muscle does not resolve rigor mortis as quickly as warm-blooded muscle, so heat from cooking can cause the fresh legs to twitch."

"Please don't," Donar just looked freaked out, clutching his Frogadier protectively.

"I know it's fun to screw with his head, but he's an impressionable kid too," Noël frowned in warning as he took a stick to fish for the packet of toasted nuts.

The pine nuts were special, crumbling very softly under the teeth, and were a success amongst us. Liz floated to me, perching on my shoulder. Her flower twirled about as she placidly considered the nuts, accepting a sniff.I gave her some nuts, watching as the hedonistic Floette chewed on the pine nuts flavoured by wood-smoke.

"Donar, how is your training?" I asked in passing.

"Bulbasaur evolved!" Donar showed me the evolved form, and Ivysaur crowed in victory along with Fletchinder, Frogadier and Bagon. Bagon celebrated by head-butting Donar.

"Ow!" Donar rubbed his leg. "Bagon, when your leg and head heals, we're going to make sure you master Ember, alright?! Please don't hit me!"

Crystal made a noise like a kettle once more, spinning around Jelly's attempts at swatting her. I shook my head, leaving Aegis to break up the argument before long. "Darkrai, how is the marrow?"

I have learned that food need not be complicated to taste good. He still sounded amazed.

"Erm... pardon me, but where the hell did you guys find a Darkrai?" Noël commented once the partially festive mood of a campfire was dwindling down. "I thought they were native to the Sinnoh region... and they're legendary in their own right as well."

"He followed the Sinnoh delegates to Kalos, where I persuaded him to follow us as a research assistant," I smoothly answered, watching Donar's brow furrow in confusion.

"Pokémon can work?" Donar sounded blank. The concept of a regular income has, apparently, not made itself readily apparent to him.

"According to the Third Pokémon Convention of Icirrus City, Pokémon can, with the legal representation of their Trainer, take on jobs and actually hold representation in human society," I explained. "In the wake of Team Plasma, the Pokémon Fan Clubs felt that Team Plasma did have a logical point, and hence the Third Convention also gave Pokémon the right to legal counsel and representation, as well as the right of choice to release following the conclusion of a pending investigation into a Trainer's dubious acts. Most of it also governs the release of Pokémon into the wild. Of course, the implications are that only Trained Pokémon can function effectively in society, and that there is a Trainer behind every Pokémon with a job."

I added ignorance of the law to the list of things Trainers seem to forget. A moment later, implications of said ignorance joined it. Young idiots amazed by the dazzle and pageantry and unaware of the hard work that went into Pokémon training, and the idiot researchers that would ignore domestic economies to send the young idiots out.

Night fell, and the Muraille Coast was partially silent. Nowhere in nature is ever truly silent; even the roars of Tornadus and Thundurus would have made a sound. The camp was asleep, save for myself; my Holo Caster kept beeping, especially as I input all of the relevant data within – I missed the clicking of keys on a keyboard, but a laptop was too bulky. The Holo Caster at least came with solar cells, though I would have run the device down before long.

It would be within this silence that AZ would first appear.

Liz was the first to react as the Misty Terrain covered the field. The ponderous, heavy steps echoed, followed by a torrent of white smoke, indistinguishable from the white hair that flowed from under his cap.

I remained seated.

The Torkoal snorted, more smoke pouring from its nostrils to shroud around them. From the sea, perhaps elsewhere, and to a sleepy individual, it would have been a sea mist, and nothing more. Silence issued from its Trainer, a wandering old man.

"Vous êtes libre, n'est-ce pas?" I commented, not even bothering to greet the man. You are free, are you not?

"Le passé, je suis libre de lui. Mais pas de l'avenir," he answered. "Le destin a un moyen de tester l'éternel. C'est un moyen aussi." The past, I am free of it. But not of the future. Fate has a way of testing the eternal. This is a way too.

I glared back in answer. "Pourquoi êtes-vous ici, monseigneur?" Why are you here, my lord?

Will reminding you of your lost titles and fame and empire chase you away?

"Vous avez pris la place d'amis. Le destin n'est pas doux envers ceux qui perturbent les plans." You have taken the place of friends. Destiny is not kind to those who disturb the plans.

"Cela ne répond pas à mes questions, monseigneur," I looked to Liz, and nodded. "Je vais devoir vous demander de partir. Immédiatement." That does not answer my question, my lord. I will have to ask you to leave. Immediately.

"Je sais que vous cherchez à détruire celui qui les a tués. Vos compagnons," he answered. "Ils ne reviendront pas, même si le Pokémon de la Vie est mort par votre main." I know you seek the one who killed them. Your companions. They will not return, even if the Pokémon of Life is dead by your hand.

I smiled. I wanted to laugh; revenge was a pointless endeavour to waste time upon. Let the immortal think so, though, if he so wished. It would make his presence in my life so much less. "J'ai payé de toute mes larmes, à une société qui désarme la victime, et pas le voleur. Leur pitoyable effort, ils ne savent pas qu'ils font l'amour avec la mort."

I have paid with all my tears, to a society who disarms the victim, and not the thief. Their pitiable effort, they do not know that they make love with death.

A ghost of a smile passed on his face, yet the ghost was lost to stony silence once more. He knew the song, then. "Vous voyez-vous comme misérable, mademoiselle?"

Do you see yourself as miserable, miss?

I pondered the question. It was a good one. "Je suis malheureuse. Je suis vivante pour être malheureuse. Si vous n'avez rien à dire, au revoir." I am unhappy. I am alive to be unhappy, at least. If you have nothing to say, goodbye.

The Torkoal snorted, a cascade of smoke sent over the Misty Terrain and the rocky parts between cliff and coast.

"The sword you hold..." he inclined his head as behind me, the Pokéball burst and a singing of a sword echoed in warning. "My regards, Durandal."

The king who established the Ancien Régime, the one who founded the AZ Empire and the homeland of the Kalos region, thus turned his back and left with the ghostly mist he came shrouded in, the whispers and thumps of a Golurk hiding in the shadows, the clicking of the clay wings of a Sigilyph his heralds. The fog receded, dissipated and lost to the Muraille Coast and the Kalosian waters beyond, leaving nothing but coast, rock, seaweed, and the nightmare of reason.

I looked to Aegis, or Durandal, the Peerless Sword. "Really? You?"

Always inexpressive, the resulting single clang told me volumes about Aegis. That perhaps, there was a reason why I had found an Aegislash lingering around Parfum Palace in the wild.

As the moon rose higher, the cliffs began to melt away, until gradually I became aware of the coast, of the legend of the old Torterra island that must have flowered once, now disappeared into the ocean or somewhere in the waters of the Sinnoh region — a fresh, green breast of the New World, before Ransei was even broken into the Kanto and Johto regions, when Kalosian men sailed out into the Age of Discovery. The waters of Kalos and the ocean had pandered in whispers to the greatest of all human dreams; for an enchanted moment, humankind must have held his breath in the presence of this sea of unknowns, face to face with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.

Brooding on the old mysteries, I thought of a man's wonder when he first picked out the light at the end, the light of a weapon and to his revived comrade. He had come a long way, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity, where the Stygian fields rolled on under the dark. Throughout his years, AZ must have believed in it, the future that year by year recedes. It eluded him then, but tomorrow, he would run faster, stretch out his arms farther...

To continue, ceaselessly borne back into the past.

According to Noël, most Trainers kept their Pokémon in their Pokéballs. Apparently it was both as a courtesy, and because some Pokémon were too large to safely accommodate anywhere without damage to either themselves or the surrounding infrastructure. Which was why the presence of Darkrai and Altair confused him so much, as he told me. The mystery was solved the next morning, when we packed up camp and Dr du Bois actually had to lean on Altair to make any headway into the journey, her expression like the brewing of a coming storm that I wanted to run from.

Altair continued to get strange looks as we marched into Cyllage City, the wide streets filled with bicycles and their riders, clearly either gathering for a marathon or something.

"Triathlon," Dr du Bois clarified out of the blue. "Not marathon."

Are you psychic? "Erm... this looks crowded..."

Dr du Bois gave the crowds a gimlet eye that looked fearsome and intimidating. "Grant will be somewhere inside that crowd. That cretin will be participating."

Hearing the professor refer to a Gym Leader as a cretin, even as popular and trendsetting as Grant, was rather shocking, but that was Dr du Bois. "Oh... did you know him?"

"Anyone who did a League challenge in the past years would," Dr du Bois muttered. "You remind me of him."

I shifted uncomfortably. "R- Really?"

"Yes. Both of you are thick-headed and arguments simply bounce off of your skull."

"Hey!" I half-yelled, but without heat. Dr du Bois's sarcasm slid off like water from a Golduck's back as I looked at the bicycles, gathered around a cul-de-sac with a stage in the middle, where a familiar armour-wearing man was standing.

"And we're all very honoured that Wikstrom of the Kalos Elite Four is here today as guest of honour!" a beefy-looking man in a suit and holding a microphone, which I took to be the commentator, was standing. "Racers, get ready!"

"Bicycle race," Noël swallowed, finally looking at the ground and watching people and Pokémon alike run out of the way. "Come on."

"Doctor, your leg?" I urgently hissed as we began to move to the sidelines, except that Dr du Bois looked hampered by both her backpack and her leg. The woman herself was aggrieved, even going as far even to scowl in answer, but she said nothing, just limping along with her Lucario for support.

"On your mark!"

"Shit!" I cursed as Noël and I had reached the sidelines, but Dr du Bois was still a long way away. I dropped my backpack next to Noël, immediately rushing towards her. "Doctor!"

"Get set!"

There was five metres of space between us and the horde. If we caused an accident here, there was going to be so much trouble. "Doctor!"

"Go!"

A red flash landed Altair and a stunned Dr du Bois, and me, flat by the side while what felt like a Donphan horde stormed down the streets of Cyllage and out of the city proper. Dr du Bois made a sound, steadily rolling from where she had squashed her backpack to glare at the red blur, or the Scizor. "Oh, you?"

"Are you alright?" Noël rushed towards us, pausing only to look at the Scizor. "Erm... we don't mean any harm?"

"Verily," said a familiar man. Wikstrom himself was striding towards us, the red Scizor moving to hover next to him, wings buzzing. "My apologies, fair lady."

Dr du Bois looked irritated, a far cry from her usual icy self as she accepted his gauntleted hand and got hoisted up instead.

"A fair lady should not be carrying this much," Wikstrom continued, lifting her backpack off with a brief struggle. "Especially not twenty-five kilograms."

Amazingly, the unflappable Doctor blushed. "It's my work. I am a travelling researcher."

"I know of your work, Dr Marguerite du Bois," Wikstrom leant down, taking her hand to plant a chaste kiss on the back. "Especially your article on the Officers Jenny and Nurses Joy within the League support structure, and if their presence would block more capable individuals from entering the medical service and policing sectors. An enterprising work."

A single eyebrow lifted. "I was not aware that an Elite Four would read them. Especially not the Baron de Rais, whose family served under the Princess of Notre Dame."

"One must always advance with the times, madame," Wikstrom replied. "I presume that you are headed towards the Pokémon Centre?"

Dr du Bois stuck out her hand, palm facing up. "My bag."

"It is extremely heavy, madame," the Elite Four answered. "As a chevalier of the highest orders, I doubt so."

"My bag, monsieur," Dr du Bois snapped.

"Come on, Doctor," I persuaded. "You need help, and if that bag's as heavy as he says, Altair can't carry it. Pokémon Centre?"

"It's filled," Dr du Bois sourly answered. "The rooms always are filled when the Bicycle Race is under way. And-" she winced as she tentatively took a step. "My work-"

"It will not run," Wikstrom answered severely. "I will stake my partner Aegislash that this bag shall be protected more than the artefacts that sleep within the Anistar vaults."

Dr du Bois took a deep breath. "Fine. Donar, M. Duval, M. Wikstrom. L'hôtel Relifac-le-Haut."

Hotel Cyllage turned out to be next to the cul-de-sac, a central loop around a stage where skaters and cyclists surrounded like the moons of a planet. Many of them gave us a wide berth, or maybe it was the woman limping with a Lucario for support and the armoured Elite Four member behind her. The Cyllage concierge began spluttering as we entered, but then Dr du Bois fixed her still-formidable expression.

"M. Duval," she sighed.

"I'm staying," Noël offered. "Not like you can watch the kid. I'm headed to the Cyllage Gym anyway."

"Really?" I doubtfully asked as the concierge handed over two sets of keys.

Dr du Bois picked both, examined them, handed me one. "M. Duval will be going to the Cyllage Gym, yes? You may follow him. I shall be there shortly once I have dropped my bag off and assured M. Wikstrom."

"Oh look, I need to check in too, look at the time," Noël drawled, filling out a form to hand to the concierge. "No worries, Dr du Bois, we'll be escorting you."

With a pinched expression suggesting that she did not like that, she made an imperious gesture that meant that Altair and Wikstrom – a freaking Elite Four – escort her limping self up the steps, with us meek Trainers following her. As one Pokémon, a crazy researcher and an armoured Elite Four entered the room, I caught sight of a fleeting expression on the knight's face, that under the struggle of carrying a twenty-kilo bag in full armour was something approaching admiration. But there was no way he could... right?

I entered my room, Noël taking the one next to mine. Most of my unpacking consisted of dropping my bag on the foot of the bed, checking for my valuables on my person, and then getting out at the same time that Noël waved at me across the hallway. A heartbeat later, her room door opened, and with it some awkward atmosphere.

Dr du Bois had taken off her coat, apparently leaving it inside. Her black hair hung loose and limp in its usual bob, and by her side Altair was still hovering. Now, though, there was a new addition in the form of Wikstrom, who looked concerned and slightly frustrated.

"Oh, you got one more hanger-on," I said.

"He is not hanging on," Dr du Bois flatly answered. "His duty is always to Kalos first and foremost. As the heir still stands, the House of de Rais must still repent. When his duty is discharged, he will disappear from my sight."

The flat, venomous tone sent shivers down my spine, but I felt that there was some hidden history between the Pokémon League and Dr du Bois. Maybe it was her work, or Daisy... it could be Daisy. Compared to the sun, Dr du Bois was a pale imitation, imperfect and insecure.

"Why is the hotel called Relifac-le-Haut?" I asked when we left.

"Relifac-le-Haut is the Kalosian name for Cyllage City," Noël explained to me. "Like Roche-sur-Gliffe is the name of Ambrette Town. That's why, though on international maps we refer to our cities and towns by their new names, their traditional names still remain. In this case, Relifac-le-Haut refers to a relief, a sculptural technique, and the suffix '-le-Haut', which means 'up high'. It's a direct reference to the old cave-systems up on the cliffs, now part of the Cyllage Gym."

We stopped by the cliff-faces, and I groaned as I came face to face with a winding road that led from Cyllage City... all... the... way... up... "We have to get up there."

"Nope," Noël popped the 'p' at the end, pointing to a roadside news bulletin. "Gym Leader isn't in. We can climb the cliffs of Cyllage tomorrow, today it looks like Dr du Bois is going to the Pokémon Centre."

"What?" she echoed. "I am fine, I can walk- ah!"

"Madame, that is not a good idea," Wikstrom intervened, catching her. "Altair, grab her other arm, please. Nurse Joy should be able to fix her."

"Let go! Altair, you traitor!" Dr du Bois shouted as she was tugged along by a knight and a Lucario, to my secret amusement. "Donar!"

"I'll be exploring the city!" I waved goodbye.

"I will have revenge!"

Noël giggled as she left. "That is... are you sure she's alright?"

I slowly nodded. "Yeah... more or less."

"Right," his blond head bobbed in a nod. "So, we should get you a bike?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "But first... know any highlights?"

"Sure!" Noël cheerfully replied. "Came through here before, seen all the sights. Maybe we can hit the beach!"

"You were on a road trip?" I asked as we just wandered around the cliff-side, eyeing the finish line set up at the end. Obviously, Wikstrom wasn't needed until the first few guys came back, hence the Elite Four's free time spent on dragging Dr du Bois to the Pokémon Centre.

"No," Noël replied. "Family trip to the beach. The cooked Binacle is to die for. Binacle is another local Pokémon, so you're in for a treat."

My stomach tried to heave out on itself at the mention of seafood, so I looked at Noël queasily. "No seafood, please. Can we get that bike?"

I got a yellow bike at a dirt-cheap price, and it was foldable. Then, I stocked up on Potions, Antidotes and Paralyse Heals, earning myself a free Freeze Heal on offer. Noël made his own purchases, notably on Freeze Heals.

"Always good, when I have an Ice-type team," Noël smirked, handling the spray bottle carelessly. "So, you've decided what Pokémon to use, right?"

I nodded. "Ivysaur and Frogadier should be able to stand up to Grant... and you, Noël?"

He shrugged. "Already have the badge. I just cleared out to Coumarine until I was called back home. Urgent matters."

His tone was sad, so we dropped the subject back to purchases. I tried to get away, but the Kalosian Trainer dragged me towards the Boutique, watching with an uncanny Fearow gaze as he made me get another pair of shoes.

It was... normal. No creepy technical truths, no lectures mid-walks, no feeling like I was a child to be coddled or a Ducklett following a Swanna – and there was the lousy metaphor. I almost forgot Dr du Bois. Almost; I don't think, even at her most polite, that anyone could make that mistake.

Note: No, I don't think it's possible in the real world to stew marrow bones in a Dutch oven. It's just not hot enough, and it's possibly undercooked. Also, marrow is served with pot-au-feu, but on brown bread and sprinkled with salt, not on crackers.

As readers might have noticed, yes, I pay attention to detail to food. I love food, and the Culture aspect of my French classes in uni gave me an interest in French cuisine. Pokémon X and Y also featured restaurants, and food itself is an important aspect in any world. Also, the presence of Miltank and the Skiddo line in Kalos suggests to me that, at least, Kalos would have a wide variety of cheeses and dairy products.

On what Marguerite said to AZ: 'J'ai payé de toute mes larmes, à une société qui désarme la victime, et pas le voleur. Leur pitoyable effort, ils ne savent pas qu'ils font l'amour avec la mort.'Both lines are part of Fantine's lament in Les Misérables. There may or may not be parallels between Fantine and the woman who lost her beloved Pokémon and continue to work for the sake of the other Pokémon still alive.

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