Savoir-faire – To Know and To Do

XV: Penser – To Think

Day 22: I did not expect to run into Wikstrom Gampi de Rais. The Elite Four member was very polite in assisting me with my leg and bag during the middle of the bicycle race, though he did comment that my bag was heavy. He also escorted me to the Pokémon Centre, despite repeated refusal on my part and Altair's assistance in helping me to the Centre.

Note to self: Get a Golett. The Golett line, as well as the legendary golems are the only Pokémon exempt from the Third Conference labour laws.

"Why are you here?" I asked the moment any stray nurses were out of earshot. The moment Wikstrom left, I was going to triage myself out, tantrum or no tantrum.

"I am an Elite Four, and thus I have obligations to Kalos too," Wikstrom mildly answered. "Part of my obligations are to protect the Champion."

"You know that is a formality," I answered tightly. My leg might have been healed, but the phantom pains were much worsened by the damp of the Muraille Coast. "I thought that, if anyone was to come to coastal Kalos, it would be Siebold."

I had anticipated that said Elite Four would not be present. The chef thought that no one would realise that he spent nearly all his free time in Camphrier Town, the putain. No, not out of historical admiration, more like admiration of the local overlord of the Pokémon Storage System.

"It is not my place to be involved in my comrade's affaire du cœur," Wikstrom answered. "It was truly obligation that brought me here, and our meeting was a coincidence."

I nodded in understanding. "I see."

"After you disappeared..." Wikstrom paused.

"I did keep up with the Lumiose press during the last few years," I interrupted. "It was rather hard not to, though I did get through the École Normale Supérieure de Kalos. It was... harsh. I will not apologise for that, though. I could not have kept up the pretence of being Champion after that tragedy, after their cremation and scattering were ordered."

"I would have stood by you," my old mentor in the ways of the Kalos League answered.

"Your family crucified yourselves with the burning of Jeanne d'Arc centuries ago," I answered. "It is... difficult to explain. Why I left Île-de-l'arc."

Wikstrom indicated the electronic ticket boards, that indicated about ten more people between us and the triage nurse. "We have time."

"After the... cremation..." I swallowed. It was not a set of memories I cared to revisit. "After that... I began to ask why. Why did the League attempt to cover this up? Why were my Pokémon denied a basic funeral, even though it was their right? Kalos and its Champion should be able to mourn, as Champion Alder and Unova had mourned for his late Volcarona. I realised I was angry and bitter, that I should give up the Championship."

"That was not possible," Wikstrom allowed. "Your Pokémon played a role within that, but you are a good Trainer. A single one of your Pokémon would have decimated the best."

I nodded. "My pitiful state was apparent, but Altair and Vega would win against nearly any team that the League's rising stars would find, and then I was being pressured to train some more Pokémon... my current team might not have been made for battle in mind, but they would match themselves evenly against my former team. And, even though I was angry and bitter, there was no way I could have given up, since throwing a match would have driven the honour-bound League into uproar."

"Those measures we imposed following the Geosenge disaster..." Wikstrom understood, if his lined expression was anything to go by. "In whatever way possible, Kalos had to avoid the uproar coming so quickly from a Champion's resignation. A Champion's temporary disappearance, soon to be effected as permanent... you and I, we have gone through them together, that the previous Champion, if still present, will take over in the case of the Champion incumbent disappearing."

"I ran," I answered. "I got myself forged papers, a forged past, I made a career within the academic world, where the battling spheres were as distant as could be possible. I found a way to persuade Augustine Sycamore to hire me, and then I set up my persona as anti-battling, as much as was possible without being too overboard. Just... I left the battling world, searching for possible answers of why. Why a strong and powerful Champion was still needed in this world, why Kalos would persist in its illusions and pageantry. Why could other Champions, like the legendary Red, leave the Pokémon League, but I could not."

"I will not tell you to stop mourning," the faithful knight, who had remained even though half of the Elite Four almost questioned why a child would have taken over the Pokémon League, said in that moment. "I would ask why you had never told me this, but I believe I understand. The politics of the Pokémon League are truly overboard, and I comprehend why you felt driven into a corner even though you never chose to become the heroine of Kalos, the title that became your shackle to the Rainbow Isle. Just know that if you require, you will have the strength of the Maison de Rais. So I swear as the blade of the Elite Four, Duke Wikstrom, Baron de Rais."

"That's... huge," I stated, almost the obvious. What he was offering was... incredible. Perhaps, had the Kalosian Revolution been anything but engineered by a few nobles against the Last Dynasty it would have lacked power, but few other Kalosian noble houses had survived as long as the Maison de Rais in modern Kalos, its long-standing rival of the Maison Fleur-de-Lis fallen years ago with Lysandre and ensuring its pre-eminence within the Kalos region. Comparable even to the Princely House of d'Arc, where all Kalos Champions entered. Even for a modern region and part of the global nation, some things did not change within Kalos itself. "Even for a knight of fervour, serving two materialistic princesses should have ended that streak already."

"You care for your companions far more than yourself, madame," Wikstrom earnestly told me. "I do not think you would fit the definition of materialistic. You were the first Trainer not to laugh when I presented myself as a knight, and I have been serving Kalos as one of the Four for a long time. I hardly dared hope, but when the child of twelve merely held her beast ready, declared her challenge, and made good on her fight of the Elite Four's blade... for me, the révélation came that battle."

Of all four Elite Four members, I commiserated the most with Wikstrom. Siebold was a very distant friend, Malva was immersed in the ideology of Team Flare to ever believe me, and Drasna was so cheerful as to be almost sinister. As someone outside, I had barely comprehended the stigma of holding descent from one of the world's most infamous ancient serial killers. It was hard to laugh at someone who was as alone as I personally felt. I was twelve, and challenging the Elite Four, and instead of a play-actor, I found a chevalier who truly believed and lived by an unknown of chivalry. He could set it aside; he had done it before, and I knew how much it cost him, but men who could admire their own conscience to save people were heroes.

I liked Wikstrom. I sympathised with him, and his ridiculous ideals of chivalry and knights and loyalty. When I asked how he did battle with an Aegislash, he truly told me, no holding back, and he let me try. It was during those years alone and studying, when I found Aegis hiding, and when I truly began practice, that those memories were... good. Wikstrom was the closest thing to a friend I had, as over-the-top and as much of a large ham he was. If I could afford to, I could learn to love him.

There was no way I could afford to.

So I nodded, gave nothing fake in my expression, chatted with the Wigglytuff nurse and then triaged myself out. No one said that Wikstrom's advice held any medical authority.

Altair gave his version of a snit, which was to cold-shoulder me towards the knight and then follow three steps behind.

"Why?" I groaned, forced to lean on Wikstrom to hobble out.

"The nurse said that you needed to rest," Wikstrom mentioned casually. "And she gave Altair your codeine prescription, already filled out. At least today, you're going back to your room to sleep for a long time. I would prefer that you slept within the Pokémon Centre, but you don't have a room within."

The pain would die sooner or later, but the feeling of Altair's aura indicated that if necessary, my Lucario partner would see no reason not to force the horse pills down my throat. Seeing as I trained a Lucario so odd that even its own species gave Altair a wide berth, I knew he would do it. "Fine."

Back in my own room, I found Darkrai lingering around. Why did you approach the healing building?

"Do you call all Pokémon Centres that?" I asked him. "Because they aren't really healing buildings. You realise the distinction, yes?"

Hmm. And the human?

"Wikstrom, or Baron de Rais," I answered. "Choose one and call him that. He's... an acquaintance. I doubt he'll report to Diantha where I am, so feel free to ask him questions. I think he can answer anything with regards to the old chivalric order."

"Indeed I may, Sir Darkrai," Wikstrom promptly told the legendary Pokémon. "To meet the one who worries Lady Cynthia is a rather dubious honour, all things considered."

"Well, you guys chat," I accepted the prescription from Altair's paw, grabbed the bottle, and took the pill to wash down.

What is that? The Pitch-Black Pokémon asked.

"Medicine," I gasped.

It looked nothing like a herb.

"It's a pill," I explained. "Say... imagine a herb, taken to undergo numerous processes to derive the good chemicals out, and then reduced into powder and then taken in this form. That's not accurate, but it's all you would comprehend. It's relatively tasteless, but it can be mixed with food. What I took was a salt of codeine, an opiate used for numbing pain in the medical circles."

Are you in pain?

"Not from you," I assured. "Are you alright? Did I bore you terminally?"

You have been an able host. I am the one who should apologise.

I chuckled as the muddling effects of codeine began to set in. "Say, Darkrai, I'm not in full control of my faculties now. I'm going to be asleep for a bit, maybe for the rest of the day. Altair, can you let Liz out and then deal with the ghostly trio somehow?"

In answer, a pillow slapped my head, and I fell down. That was a good enough answer; he hated dealing with them.

Falling asleep was an unknown process to me; details were usually simple in my dreams, so awake and asleep made a difference. This time, it was a surprisingly lucid dream, one of walking in a wood similar to the Winding Woods of Snowbelle City. There was a song in the air, the arrhythmic cheerful hums of an accordion clashing with the eeriness of the woods.

That would not do. I imposed something else, a lonely, mournful cry immediately. Dissonant, unnerving, reverberation-heavy sound effects that did not quite work at chasing away the false cheeriness. I kept at it until my skin crawled, and only then did I allow the music to fade somewhat into the background of the booming voice of the forest.

You who chose to tie yourself to fates...

"That's rich, coming from someone who believes that their existence as a legendary allows them to rule over people," I scoffed.

Fool! We are legends, we are the powers that balance the world. Yet you would destroy us!

"Who made you the powers of the world!"

We are the powers of the world!

"That is absurd!"

We determine what is absurd. You were meant to die that day, and you attempted to drag us down with you-!

"So, does the realization of the absurd require suicide?" I enquired. "Camus answers: 'No. It requires revolt.'"

How dare you- how dare you rebel against us, against life!

"I choose action over contemplation, aware that I cannot succeed," I challenged, laughing at the voices of the forest, the angered minds of Pokémon and spirit alike. "You are life?"

I will outlive you. We will outlive you. You are nothing.

"Like you said, we humans are weak. We die easily. But no matter how weak we are, even if we're being chopped to bits or stabbed to death, we still want to live."

Having pursued everything towards that end, I could not hope. I dared not hope. That I was immortal and that I lived outside of rules, that everything was permitted was a fact. And now, freed from rules and holding onto the Peerless Sword Durandal, I screamed:

"I'm gonna give you a little taste of what it feels like!"

Time passes, quickly; how much time before the forest was silent, how much time before the corpses of Pokémon and human alike rested beneath my blade rested, messy and choppy between I and the horned and winged one. One armed with the power of Geomancy fired a Moonblast; another fired an Oblivion Wing. Countered by King's Shield, I raised the blade without peer, and then it swung-

My eyes rested upon the plain ceiling of the hotel room. Moonlight streamed in from outside. Darkrai hovered, one intense blue eye concentrated on what I spotted to be the room service menu. Altair was seated beside him, pointing to words or, I presumed, letters, since the Lucario drew certain letters out in the air and Darkrai mimicked him. Liz gently hovered around, Aromatherapy at work. Jelly and Crystal were holding a mocking stand-off, while in a corner Aegis slung by the letter-writing team, keeping a weather eye upon my Chandelure and Jellicent.

By the foot of the bed, there lay a pair of black riding boots, that I was very sure could only be bought at the Boutique Couture of Lumiose City for a hundred grand of Poké. I smiled, taking the shoes which seemed to have come straight from the Grimm Brothers, and slid them on, the cool leather a counterpoint to the heat of my legs.

All is well.

The next day, my entire body was screaming in pain by high noon. And the reason for that was because I walked all the way up the cliffs, and then I had to climb a set of rock walls that looked like hikers were dashed against them on a daily basis.

"Can't... feel... my arms..." I groaned once I reached the stone field at the top of the

Even worse, Dr du Bois was back to normal – that is, she easily climbed up with the help of her Pokémon, and was seated by the sidelines, holding up what looked like a copy of « La Voix de Kalos », the Kalos regional newspaper.

It was a half-amused Gym Leader, Noël, and the associate professor of my nightmares that awaited me. Frogadier made a croak, pulling me up with Ivysaur's assistance.

"Thanks, guys," I panted, trying to catch my breath and swearing that Dr du Bois's boots looked newer when they were shoved into my face and I faced them levelly.

"Not very active, is he?"Grant commented once I found the strength in me to stand, and I had downed half a bottle of the water Noël had thoughtfully brought up. "Well, are you here on a Gym challenge?"

"Ah..." I wobbled slightly. "Yes..."

Grant nodded, looking to Frogadier, who puffed his chest out in answer. "Well, you look somewhat prepared, anyway," he commented. "Referee!"

"Let the battle begin between Gym Leader Grant and Challenger Donar Oak!" the referee called. "Each can use two Pokémon. Only the challenger may substitute Pokémon. The battle ends when all Pokémon on one side can no longer battle. Now, begin!"

"Go, you little despot," Grant snickered at the private joke as the Pokéball he casually flung cracked open in a burst of light, revealing a Tyrunt that bellowed.

"Frogadier, I choose you!" I called as my starter took the field.

"Tyrunt, Stealth Rock!" Grant called, the tyrannical monster bellowing a reply as sharp pointed stones levitated from the ground up to surround my field.

"Entry hazards...?" I muttered. "Frogadier, Spikes!"

"You too?" Grant commented, grinning as the caltrops littered around his field, disappearing into the rocky earth. "Fine. Tyrunt, Bite!"

I lingered for a brief moment, before I called: "Frogadier, Water Pulse! Then jump!"

Frogadier did as he was told, sending the concussive wave straight into the jaw of the Tyrunt before leaping, somersaulting into the air as the jaws hit a boulder and broke it into pieces.

"That's... Strong Jaw," Noël realised. "The signature ability of the Tyrunt line. Biting attacks gain power from it... be careful, Donar!"

"Frogadier, Water Pulse on the boulder to Tyrunt!" I commanded sharply, the wave crashing the boulder towards the Pokémon. "Then use that and Rock Smash!"

"What the-" Grant stared as Frogadier leapt, circling the boulder to land and leap off of it as a platform, making towards Tyrunt with a glowing fist. "Tyrunt!"

Frogadier might have changed slightly; I did not quite know, except that now, my awesome starter was going to be the best Rock Smasher there ever was. "Rock Smash!"

"Tyrunt, Bite!" Grant called, his expression serious.

I grinned. Maybe the Dwebble had taught me well, after all. "Batter up!"

Frogadier used his fist and swung it in an arc, making contact with the side of the charging jaw, and also sending the Pokémon careening off course. I winced as a howl of pain echoed, and a crack.

"Tyrunt is unable to battle, this battle goes to the challenger!"

"Well, at least the little despot might learn something," Grant joked.

"Really?" I asked. "'Cause it looked like a spoilt prince. Erm, no offence."

The Gym Leader grinned openly. "You know, Tyrunt is resistant to the standard Rock counters of Water and Grass. But a Fighting-type move used like that is new."

"Might be appropriate."

"Mmm," Grant nodded, pulling another Pokéball. "This is the other Fossil Pokémon of Kalos, just so you know."

I backed slightly as the cold tinge of the Amaura forewarned me as the Pokémon appeared, hissing as the Spikes took effect. "Really? Even if I have Rock Smash?"

"Sure," Grant nodded. "Amaura, Thunder Wave!"

"Oh," I heard the forewarning from Doctor du Bois as I screamed for Frogadier to get away, which he did so, just barely.

"Icy Wind!" Grant called, as Amaura summoned a miniature blizzard within the rock-wall confines of the Cyllage Gym.

"This is Borealis's strategy..." I realised, confronted with the Icy Wind and as Frogadier reared back. "Frogadier! Jump!"

My Pokémon seemed slightly chilled, but leapt anyway as the Rock Tomb narrowly missed.

"Now!" I called as he was still falling. "Water Pulse!"

The sphere of water, manipulated by concussive wave, knocked the Amaura silly in the wake of the dust cloud as Frogadier landed. It tottered about, the confusing effect of Water Pulse finally giving Frogadier a chance to leap forward, Rock Smash in hand.

"Ga- gadier, frog." Fist raised, I allowed Frogadier a brief moment of posturing before I nodded. "Thanks, partner."

Frogadier allowed himself a cackle, and then subsided somewhat.

"Good job," Grant clapped his hands. "Now, within my Pokémons' battle style, did you realise something?"

I thought back for a moment. "I thought... well, I visited the Ambrette Lab once. And I saw a Tyrunt, and I thought it was pretty strong, but... straightforward. And when it charged for that last bite... it wasn't giving a thought to defence. It just wanted to win."

"Very good," Grant nodded. "And then?"

"Amaura... it used Thunder Wave, Icy Wind and Rock Tomb," I accused. "I knew that strategy, Noël used it against me before. It lowers the opponent's speed and then traps them, followed by a quick blast to finish them off. But, at the last moment... Amaura didn't move."

"Rock-type Pokémon are usually slow, and thus they find it harder to compete," Grant nodded. "But, they are solid, but even solidity can fall if pressure is applied. That which does not bend must break, might be the rule of the world – or that which stands fast would win. Either lesson can be taught here. It is my honour to grant you the Cliff Badge. And this TM, of course."

I accepted the Badge and TM, thanked Grant, and then the three of us left the Cyllage Gym.

"Thank you for your help!" I told Noël. "I couldn't have done it without you siccing Borealis onto us."

"De rien," Noël answered, looking shifty-eyed towards Dr du Bois. "At least, someone should have been paying attention."

"What for?" she asked, still perusing « La Voix de Kalos ». "I already knew that he was going to win. Unless you battled Grant's Aurorus and Tyrantrum at this stage, you would have won, Donar."

"Right," I sighed. "Then... shall we?"

"Shall we... what?" Dr du Bois looked blank.

"Leave?" I hazarded. "For Shalour City? For the third badge?"

"Oh."

"Erm... are you alright?" I asked. She had been uncharacteristically silent for the whole day. Not even a single criticism of my battle, despite that Frogadier had very nearly been frozen and defeated.

"It's the codeine, I'm afraid," Dr du Bois gave a wan smile. "The painkillers haven't entirely left my head yet. I'm not fully aware myself. Altair, is the sun setting?"

"Erm... why don't we stay a few more days?" I persuaded. "There's no rush, right, Doctor?"

"But the food, Donar." Her eyes widened. "Oh, Darkrai. I forgot to feed him."

I privately thought that the legendary would find a way to feed himself, but held back from saying it out loud. "I'll feed him."

"You'll give him fast food. He hates it," she babbled. "It's not good for him."

"Giving a Pokémon human food isn't good either," I grumbled, picking up the newspaper that she had dropped. It was mostly in Kalosian, but I thought I could identify the words 'cotton' and something about rising prices, if the pictures of rioting workers were anything to go by. "Cotton?"

"Dropping prices, in fact," Dr du Bois clarified.

"What?" How she managed that, even without most of her faculties, was astounding.

"Look," Dr du Bois waved. "Cotton. Cotton riots. Why?"

I nodded, obviously realising that she was nuts. "Erm, maybe we should go back..."

"It's the Cottonee," Dr du Bois warbled as we pushed her behind, Altair guiding along. Noël and I had bicycles, but there was no way Dr du Bois could stay still riding pillion in her condition. "Kalos and most of the world uses synthetic polymers or Mareep wool, but cotton is a big thing in Hoenn and Unova."

"Cottonee are native to Unova, right?" Noël commented, playing along.

"Nasty buggers, them and the Whimsicott," Dr du Bois slurred. "Important to industry, though. The Industrial Revolution was brought about by nothing more than Cottonee and the clothing industry."

"Then what about the Pokéball?"

"A way to contain Cottonee and Whimsicott within their farms."

Between Noël, Altair and I, we managed to corral the doctor to her room and leave her there with Altair. Liz perched on his shoulder. The Floette floated off to land on my shoulder, and I gently nodded to the little lady. A heartbeat later, the Lucario stepped out. He held a few slender leashes, each one of them attached to Crystal – her Chandelure – the pink menace of a Jellicent, to Aegis, and, funnily enough, to Darkrai.

"What the-?" Noël cursed as he was faced with the bizarre facsimile of a proud owner and his predatory pets.

We must walk them, Altair informed me – probably with no small amount of barely concealed amusement. She is indisposed, and you did agree to feed Darkrai.

Marguerite mentioned something known as a bisque, Darkrai murmured in agreement. Though personally I am worried, the fighter would not allow me to remain within her room alone.

She needs rest.

Yet no one protects her. She is alone and vulnerable if you intend to yank those three around with me.

"Erm..." I swallowed. "Altair, what's with the leashes?"

Your human laws that govern the city limits do not allow Ghost-type Pokémon to wander unsupervised, especially not Chandelure and Jellicent, Altair explained telepathically. I trust Aegis, but the other two are not safe.

"You mean the rest of us aren't safe," I clarified.

The Lucario tilted his head down. I meant what I told you, and nothing more or less. Will you do it or not?

We must have looked like idiots, Noël and I, forced to lead around three Ghosts and a Darkrai on leashes. At least, Altair had relented, leaving the Pitch-Black Pokémon to linger hopefully as I got him a Beartic Ice-cream in vanilla and my own with chocolate. Noël got some odd flavour that came in purple.

I watched, transfixed, as the cone and cream and all disappeared down some black void within that form. Beside me, within the town square, Noël made a low whistle.

I had no idea that snow could taste so good, the Pokémon murmured. What is this snow?

"Ice cream," I muttered, trying to ignore the legendary Pokémon and the eyes of all Trainers.

Beartic Ice.

"Yeah- hang on, you can read?" Noël sounded taken aback.

The fighter determined that if I was going to learn, I might as well learn something of human languages. Darkrai explained. Once I can comprehend the letters, we were going to practice writing.

"Most Pokémon... don't quite learn," Noël murmured. "Sapin can read a bit, but... Dr du Bois sounds like a talented teacher, at least. Are you learning the English alphabet?"

Quite. The legendary Pokémon of nightmares then floated around the square some more. We are by the sea.

"Erm... Darkrai are native to Sinnoh, right?" Noël asked. "Are you going to go home?"

Home? The brilliant blue dimmed somewhat. Why?

"Why...?" Noël mumbled. "You don't want to return to Newmoon Island?"

Idly, almost dreamily, the Pitch-Black Pokémon reflected. Where I must place myself in voluntary exile? That is not home; that is exile.

I watched Darkrai face the park of Trainers, most of them giving us a wide berth, eyeing his leash in my hand. What must it be like, having to endure this ostracism and loneliness?

There are no Pokémon that hates humans; only humans who dislike Pokémon.

Having said that, Darkrai then reached out and swatted Crystal on her arm, sending the Ghost spinning like some floating top that made noises like a kettle, bobbing about. Ghostly, scary, predatory Pokémon, all in hand and playing. Even Frogadier deigned to play; Fletchinder and Ivysaur were making a game of spinning Crystal through the air by wing, gust or vine. Liz hovered by my shoulder, colliding into Crystal as she floated up and then crashing into Fletchinder, where all three ladies began squabbling that devolved into a fight that erupted when Jelly started shooting Brine indiscriminately.

Altair greeted me the moment I awoke from codeine-induced madness. He handed me my bag, the papers off the floor, another pair of shoes courtesy of Wikstrom's stuffed-breast chivalry, and my beeping Holo Caster. Of all, the last was from Augustine, so I switched it on and accepted the call.

"We have a lot to discuss the next time I'm in Illumis," I warned the bugger.

"Salut, Marguerite," Augustine's tired voice told me, amongst many things, that Sina and Dexio were skipping out on the Professor's regular sleep schedule. "Remember your acceptance piece?"

"Technological Determinism and the Pokéball," I recalled, reaching for the kettle. I also handed Altair a bottle of water, which he accepted and downed easily. "The piece that landed me a doctorate and my entire thesis. Yeah?"

"Right. It reached Kanto."

"I published that piece two years ago."

"Well, some journalist read it, and currently Oak is looking up information that he asked the Laboratory for just to refute your thesis, because..." here Augustine paused. "You're famous, or infamous. Silph Co. is looking to file a libel suit, and so is the Pokéball Factory."

"The forces of economic interests at work," I sighed. "No, they won't."

"You have a small following in whatever was left of Team Plasma, by the way," Augustine commented. "And, the League is very interested in your current project."

"I thought the last time, it was your research that was more interesting," I accused. "What did you call for, if not to apologise for tricking me into the presence of the Kalos League?"

"Well, your friend from the Looker Bureau dropped in," Augustine stated, ignoring the subject. "From what I heard, a lot of people are very nervous about what you're going to publish. You may or may not be targeted."

"Augustine, I work in the humanities. Do these people have little or no free time?" I scowled, even though I had switched off the holographic function to conserve power. "It's a little known piece, and the only reason it's notable is because I defended it."

"Yeah, about that," Augustine commented. "The Sûreté is very interested in that article. They're going to institute measures about abuse based on what you published."

A round ball fell out of my bag, and I picked it up. It was purple and white, with an M written on it in pink paint. My grip tightened on it; I had never used it since Daisy Linden saved the Pokéball Factory from Team Flare's hostile takeover. The number one reason why the Master Ball was such a threat, and why it was never released. "That sounds nice. Was that all?"

"Vega's been dropping in from time to time.. Your Flygon might be lonely." Augustine commented. "I heard you got a Darkrai that followed Iris from Unova?"

"Hired," I clarified. "Darkrai is a valued research assistant, though I'm not keen on using any Pokéball on him."

"Well, it might a refreshing addition to your current state of morbidity," Augustine joked, before suddenly his tone turned serious. "Either way... be careful. I have no idea what Silph Co or the great companies might do, but you're going to be upsetting a lot of people, scientists and companies alike."

"Politics," I simply replied, unsure of how to proceed at this cavalier admission of concern.

"Yeah, well," Augustine murmured. "Chérie, be good, keep your head down, and try to keep living. Dragging your cold and unmoving body out of the Lost Hotel with a Lampent to light the way is something to do only once in a lifetime. Erm... au revoir?"

"Au revoir, Augustine." I hung up, a certain unease echoing about my heart. What was he talking about? Technological determinism was an erroneous assumption perpetuated by the influx of new technology, resulting in the decoupling of technology from political accountability and the triumph of technological rationality. If anything, those companies should be thanking me for exposing that reasonable conclusion.

Are you alright? Altair questioned.

I rubbed my eyes. "I'll be fine. How are you?"

I have sent the trio out with the boy, therefore I am not continually worried for your safety. I believe that Liz likes the boy, and perhaps we should leave them to their way.

"We'll need another medic," I commented, already aware of that problem. "A Shiny Stone, too. A parting gift, like Capo."

You are aware that the Honchkrow did not leave out of choice, but of obligation.

"Oh, right, you liked him," I teased.

My Lucario smiled, as much as a canine-based face could. Shall we pick up our wayward comrades, then?

I changed my clothes to the kilted pleat skirt and blouse top of urban grey, and then set out with Altair. We found our comrades within the town square, and I nearly laughed when I saw Darkrai's front drenched in sticky ice cream before I wiped him down.

"What happened?" I asked the equally sticky Donar.

Donar scowled at Jelly, accepting the wipe I handed him to get the sticky sweet liquid off of his hands. "Brine."

"You're going to ruin your appetite," I sighed once the Dark-type Pokémon, Donar, Noël and the rest of the Pokémon were clean.

Bisque?

I shook my head. "Cream of pumpkin. Lighter on your stomach, and delicious even though it's not native. Today, my dear, we are going to discover the carbohydrate-heavy speciality of Cyllage City's pain perdu."

He liked it, and I smiled, and laughed, and made plans that involved leaving behind Noël Duval as Donar and I would set out to Geosenge Town. It would almost be worth all of the pain to freeze the moment in amber, a reminder crystallised in a life. Life is beautiful... why? There is my answer.

Notes:

Previously I called Wikstrom Baron de Rais, and later he addressed himself as Duke Wikstrom. This is not a confusion. Also, the d'Arc in this story is not a reference to an actual place called Arc, but rather l'arc-en-ciel or the rainbow.

However, the de Rais surname is a reflection of the real world; in my head-canon, Wikstrom descended from a guy famous for indiscriminate murder and blasphemy after his leader perished due to a perceived betrayal by the very people she protected. Gilles de Rais was a forerunner as one of the Kalos Elite Four of sorts. He turned bad.

Suffice it to say that till today, the Maison de Rais is clinging barely because its main scion Wikstrom is a respected Elite Four, and because after Lysandre and the fall of one noble house descended straight from royalty, so the Maison de Rais is down one rival.

Critique, s'il vous plaît!