Savoir-faire – To Know and To Do

XXVII: Falloir – To Be Necessary

Day 64: I won ten million Poké last night in chemin-de-fer.

This afternoon, Donar told me that M. Morelle and Léa met. He never saw Mlle Morelle after that. He is worried, I can tell. His friends and him have approached me for reassurance.

"This will be a one-on-one battle," Serena called out in the bowels of the Coumarine Gym. "The battle ends when one Pokémon is unable to continue. Begin!"

"Pumpkaboo, Leech Seed!" Léa called.

Pumpkaboo chuckled, beginning to flare up before purple spectres surrounded Fletchinder, who yelped and flew out of the way.

"Not Trick-or-Treat!" Léa yelled up to the giggling Pumpkaboo. "Pumpkaboo!"

"Fletchinder, Agility!" I instructed. "Follow up with Aerial Ace!"

I thanked every single god up there, from Arceus down to even Celebi, that we'd met a Hawlucha that could teach Fletchinder the infamous never-miss move. Fletchinder dived immediately, her body somehow sleeker and faster, so fast that she'd struck before the Pumpkaboo could react. The Shadow Ball that the Pumpkaboo had been preparing, though, imploded, sending Fletchinder back.

"Fletchinder!" I caught her bodily. "You alright?"

"Flet, chinder,"she warbled, shrugging to get back to her feet, wings askew.

"Are Fletchinder supposed to be so fast?" Shauna asked me.

"Fletchinder's got an Ability called Gale Wings," I explained. "Some Pokémon have alternate abilities, and mine has the alternate of the Fletchling line."

"That's so cool!" Shauna jumped in glee as Serena jogged to us. "So Gale Wings makes them faster?"

"A Fletchinder with Gale Wings?" Serena panted.

"Gale Wings? Now that's a pretty nifty ability, sprout," Leader Ramos walked up to us, supported by his giant scissors. "Gale Wings... been a while since I saw that."

"There's another Fletchling with Gale Wings?" I asked.

"I fought a Talonflame, and a terrifying sight it was," Ramos demurred. "Talonflame are on average already the fastest of any bird Pokémon in ordinary combat, Gale Wings or not. No, Gale Wings are the mythical 'second speed', that Unovan tales say the god of winds Tornadus blessed the Fletchling line with. Faster than a tailwind, Gale Wings uses control over the local winds to clock faster than even a Pidgeot at that short burst of a Flying-type attack. Doesn't matter about training or genetics. It ignores paralysis, Sticky Web, doesn't matter about the speed of either guy on the field. They say that a properly trained Talonflame with Gale Wings could take on Tornadus and win."

"Is that... true?"

"Dunno," Ramos shrugged. "Say, môme, is that Dr du Bois's Pumpkaboo?"

"She doesn't want him," Léa hugged the slightly singed and bruised Pumpkaboo in her arms. "I can keep him, right?"

"He's not mine to give, môme, " Ramos answered gravely.

Dr du Bois was at the seaside. She had not answered her Holo Caster, and I would have searched her room if not for Altair's reassurance of her safety. She was a grown adult, and she had her Pokémon to protect her, after all... she was safe.

Right?

Noël crowded up. "What's up?"

"Hmm? Nothing, nothing." I assured.

Noël pondered. "So, who's the lucky lady?"

I gulped. "No, no! There's no... lady. No lady."

"The lucky guy?"

"No!" I shook my head. "Not a guy, either. It's Dr du Bois."

He rapidly lost enthusiasm. "Well, if you like your teacher..."

"No! I- I don't feel like that about her," I sighed.

"I think..." Noël spoke up at last. "I think you should consider exactly who are your friends."

I was left alone, Noël's words echoing in my head.

Who were my friends? Serena, Shauna, Noël... Tierno and Trevor? Doubtful; I haven't met them. In fact, short of my Pokémon, the only other presence in my Training life was the good Doctor and her team, who were way older than me. Surely... it didn't make me any less of a Trainer, surely. I mean, being a Trainer didn't mean that I couldn't have a support structure. It didn't mean that-

"Donar?" Léa waved in front of my face. "Are you dreaming?"

"What? Huh?" I blinked as she nearly slapped my cheek. "I'm fine! It's... the heat, yeah. That's all."

Ramos nodded. "El Niño would be starting soon, I gather. It's gonna be a long heatwave."

"Erm, Leader Ramos..." Serena fidgeted. "About that... project. Erm..."

"Right," Ramos nodded to us. "Wax, eh?"

We had found some pretty glass bottles in the marketplace. After Dr du Bois's impromptu DIY session, we had gotten inspired to make some solid perfume of our own, and somehow the garlic press saw service in processing Oran, Sitrus and Lum peels for their oils. I had found a Grepa Berry being sold, and I intended to add it into the concoction I would prepare, and...

"If you're entertaining a challenger, Monsieur, perhaps our appointment can wait."

Ramos turned around, and the lack of smile even with his back turned to us seemed apparent at the frost in his tone. "Ah."

"Leader Ramos," the tall, reedy man in the smarmy suit replied, pacing over the grassy floor with barely concealed disgust. "Your plants appear to be spilling out onto the field."

"Grassy terrain," Ramos sniffed. "Standard battlefield, Morelle."

"Indeed," the reedy man's nasal voice reeked of menace. Beady eyes set in a splotchy face eyed us, before they flickered towards Léa. "Promising Trainers, to occupy a Gym Leader's time like this."

"Who are you?" Léa asked.

"Why, I am Achillée Morelle, as everyone in Coumarine City would know," the man made a short bow that seemed mocking. Neither of them raised a hand to shake. "Now you must reciprocate the introduction. Who are you?"

"I'm Léa Morelle," Léa said.

There it was again, a silent tension like a guitar string mid-strum.

"There are not a lot who bear our name in Kalos," Morelle the senior pronounced softly.

"I- it's my mother's name," Léa defended. Purple seemed to spark from her fingers, and Pumpkaboo hissed quietly as it fled from her arms to hover overhead us.

"Such a coincidence," Morelle smirked, softly murmuring, almost to himself. "Morelle... is your mother's name Rachelle, by chance?"

Ramos's scissors clicked, beside me.

"Yes..." Léa nodded fervently. "She was."

"Ah," Morelle sounded bored.

"Did you know her?"

"I must have," Achillée Morelle flippantly replied. "I am her brother, after all."

The Coumarine Gym had the dubious honour of earning the longest stay in the journey of Daisy Linden, who after a blazing trail of two years swept through the Conference and became Champion at twelve.

It was hardly due to the toughness of Ramos's team; I could attest to the fact of the matter. I stayed a month to fully appreciate eateries which had made the Red Book at one point or another. Donar was in the midst of training for his Coumarine Gym match; I now had time to fully indulge my companions.

"How are you paying for this?" Siebold had pulled me aside after finding out that I had dropped two million Poké for him to arrange a high tea days before.

"Chemmy. Monsieur Morelle was kind enough to finance a menu dégustation," I answered. "Surely a Cordon Bleu will supply a dessert that inspires my lonely friend there."

"Madame Linden-"

"du Bois," I corrected.

"Marguerite," Siebold patiently echoed, "desserts are not my speciality. You need a pâtissière."

"Look," I shrugged. "I want to get Darkrai interested in the world. I think he's already attached to the idea of Kalos, because I'm feeding him good food and he had nice companionship and I don't exclude him from social gatherings. I would prefer that he has a nice experience from his homeland in Sinnoh. You are the only chef I know who can make hakuto jelly in Kalos on such short notice."

Siebold closed his eyes, breathing in and out through his nose. "From Sinnoh? Dare I presume that he has never left Full Moon Island before?"

"He's cultured," I assured. "I did teach him table manners. As much as a Pokémon can master them."

"You exist merely to make impossible demands of the Notre Dame kitchens, I know," Siebold grumbled, but without heat.

"You love a challenge," I answered.

"I do," he rolled his eyes. "Not the hakuto jelly. If it's Sinnoh, then the dessert to choose is cheesecake."

Hence, our high tea, awaiting guests, at Le Bateau's terrace that overlooked the Azure Bay.

"He agreed," Wikstrom appraised the moment I sat down, with assistance from the knight. My companions were playing, tossing either a ball, one carafe of iced Pecha Berry tea, or a murderous Crystal, around with Darkrai as monkey.

"He did," I caught the carafe and took a swig before I dropped it to Altair.

Altair licked a glob and flung it to Liz, who took a floating sliver of berry inside and nibbled, sending it via Psychic to Aegis, who fumbled, allowing Darkrai to catch it and drink at last. Antics. Le Bateau was a true seaside restaurant; in Kalos, it meant that having a waiter serve right beside a wave was extremely possible. This was the land of restaurant battles, after all.

Siebold might be a poissonnier at heart, but he was certainly a formidable chef de cuisine. Barely an hour of conversation between Wikstrom and I had passed, before the infamous cross-region tasting menu of Le Bateau had been served to a team of ravenous Pokémon.

"Cheesecake," I pressed the slice onto Darkrai, who delicately nibbled.

This is... cheesecake? I thought... I've tried a cheesecake in Shalour.

"Sinnoan cheesecake relies upon the emulsification of cornstarch and eggs to make a smooth texture and almost plasticine appearance," Siebold explained by the table. "It's lighter and less sweet than Kalosian cheesecake."

This is...? Darkrai tasted it. It is refreshing, monsieur.

"I am glad you enjoyed it," Siebold replied. "There are good things to be gotten in any region. Sinnoh is not unique in that respect."

I agree. There are many good things in any region, and your cooking are amongst them here. I personally rank you alongside Marguerite, in my opinion of the Kalos region. In Sinnoh... I would rank this dessert near the top, if I had ever tried it before now.

"Here I've also assembled vanilla ice cream with nata de coco jelly made from the Pamtre Berry, which grows in Sinnoh," Siebold presented three bowls to us.

A clawed hand clicked, before Darkrai considered the polished spoon in his hand. I think... I have eaten this before. On the ship that I snuck upon, they served this to the sailors, you know, with the salted seaweed and vegetables so common on Newmoon Island. It was cheap, overly cloying, and laden with thick cream. I made a Rattata sleep to taste some.

Again, he took another spoon, another bite. This must be what freedom tastes like.

Very discreetly, Siebold rubbed one eye, before making a motion for the next dish of crepe mille-feuille cake. I was left eyeing my own ice cream in reflection.

Time had been kind to me; the millions of Poké that sat in my bank accounts scattered and invested across the globe over six years were for splurging. Long-lived people do have to consider saving for a rainy day, yet until that time, I considered myself fully entitled to buy my way through the pleasures of life. I fulfilled my responsibilities as I could, and when Darkrai was here... it seemed a way to connect with someone as alone as I was, in our hearts. Darkrai had a sweet tooth; sometimes I needed to remind him to take vegetables. Never had I considered that Darkrai's association with sweets must have been his first taste of freedom.

Je suis heureux à l'idée de ce nouveau destin... Une vie à me cacher, et puis libre enfin, le festin est sur mon chemin...

Chef and Darkrai shared a look. Siebold smiled; it made him look like Hannibal Lecter. "Any feelings with regards to vegetables?"

… can I not eat them?

"We shall see," Siebold's stern expression did not let up, as he straightened his tie. "I will see to the courses to come. I believe we shall have quite the acquaintance."

Siebold was in the midst of serving delicate helpings of sago pudding when Grimsley arrived, sinking opposite us. "Sorry," the Unovan did not sound sorry at all. "Got delayed for a bit in my investigations."

My brows rose, but I enquired nothing. "My research assistant, Darkrai. Grimsley Giima, of the Unovan Elite Four. He is a Dark-type Pokémon Master."

"Darkrai. Dr du Bois, how cold," Grimsley sighed, sipping the glass of iced Sitrus Berry tea that Siebold served. "A rare Dark-type Pokémon and this is our introduction... Hmm...? This tea... was it added during or after cooling?"

"After," Siebold's eyes narrowed.

"At home we add the granules while the tea's cooking," Grimsley commented. "Gives it flavour."

"I believe people do that in Hoenn as well," I replied before Siebold could. "Nevertheless, supersaturation of sugar in tea detracts from the original Sitrus Berry flavour. Sugared syrup is hard to drink."

"True..." Grimsley allowed. "Syrup or granules? I think syrup is just asking for a reaming, don't you?"

"Granules are certainly dry and easy to transport, monsieur. However, granulated sugar prices might rise, if the current rise in Cottonee cotton prices is any indication of what might happen to the economy of Hoenn..."

The high tea ended with a selection of Pofflés. Of course.

There were creepy people in this world. Previously I had not known that; but Dr du Bois tended to be an eye-opener. Dr du Bois was creepy, in the theatrical sense. Darkrai was creepy, in the possibility sense. All of Dr du Bois's team, even Altair, could be creepy.

Achillée Morelle, though was creepy.

"Rachelle was beautiful," Mr Morelle commented. "In life and death."

Léa paused. "How did you know?"

"Why else would her daughter be in Kalos?"

"I could have run to Kalos."

"Then she would be here."

Ramos sat by the sidelines with us. The elderly gardener looked like he would rather chop Mr Morelle the senior into pieces with his giant scissors.

"That guy gives me the creeps," Shauna told us, her voice hushed.

"We should take this conversation to somewhere more private," Morelle recommended with a smirk towards Léa. "What do you say, chérie?"

"I have a family...?" Léa sounded stunned. "I have a family?"

"I think Leader Amaro knew that too," Mr Morelle glared towards Ramos, still smirking. "I thank you, monsieur, for looking after my niece. If only I'd known, chérie could have stayed at my house by the Azure Bay. Rachelle would have wanted it."

"I don't think Madame Morelle would have wanted her daughter near your family, Monsieur Morelle," Ramos stoically replied.

"How would you know, Leader Amaro?" Mr Morelle replied sharply. "The Goutte-de-Sang have shed as much, if not comparatively more blood, as the Morelle."

"Do not bring my ancestors into this!" Ramos snarled. "If you would do so, then-!"

"Please, stop!" Léa intervened, physically slotting herself between Ramos and Mr Morelle. "Leader Ramos... thank you for your help. But, I'd like a chance to... have a look."

" Môme," Ramos sounded... worried. Afraid, even. "I don't mind. Of course not. However, I would prefer that you remain on the Gym grounds. Purely as a matter of security, bien sûr. There must be a reason why M. Morelle has refrained from contacting your family."

Mr Morelle gave a small bow. "I shall escort you, then. Come."

Pumpkaboo squealed as Léa ran after the tall man in a suit. Ramos gave a shout of despair, warning of danger, but I was already pursuing Léa. Serena gave a warning shout, following along until we reached the doors of the Coumarine Gym.

Shauna was the first amongst us to speak. "W- Where did they go?"

"Who knows," Noël replied, nervous. "The Morelle... she was a Morelle? That's... not good."

Serena turned to me, her blue eyes shining nervously. "Donar... what should we do?"

A breeze passed, carrying with it the scent of the lavender that grew up on the hill of Coumarine City. As if all trace of Léa had disappeared, the wind had ghosted over their presence. Reason itself seemed to hang like the sun, the day's eye over the beach's shadows taunting and vibrant.

Joyeuse and Aegis were in Blade Forme part-ways, exchanging blows; I refrained heroically from heckling in the midst of a play-date. Some distance away, Grimsley had accepted an invitation to put Darkrai through some basic motions and strategies for battle. Darkrai might not be my companion in the strictest sense, but it never hurt to give him some exercise and education.

What is the purpose of such motions? Darkrai wondered as they tapped paws and talons.

"Muscular control," Grimsley replied. "All Pokémon depend more on their body to deliver physical blows, hence they need to keep in shape. Of course, keeping fit is also a good thing, but it's important to be comfortable in your own body. Everything in your body has its place."

Even fats? Darkrai questioned. I was conversing with some... well, I overheard a few women complaining about their figure.

"Fats cushion internal organs in case of trauma," Grimsley sighed. "Fats also cushion the joints of the body, and they protect against shock caused by sudden temperature changes in the environment. Of course, some fats are rather inconvenient, but I suppose it's a matter of health and personal preference."

Jelly burbled from her position in the ocean, and Liz lingered, enjoying the sun while sharing a Sitrus Berry with Crystal and the Phantump. Altair was practising some kata; I knew since I had matched him stroke by stroke before.

Wikstrom tutted. "Joyeuse, Shadow Claw!"

A honeycomb matrix glittered around Aegis, defending the Aegislash.

"Aegis," I instructed. "Shadow Sneak."

Aegis disappeared, to reappear and stab Joyeuse behind, but was defended from by the other Aegislash's shield.

"Aegis has done well," Wikstrom commented after the final clash of blades and the retreat. "Or was it Durandal?"

"Aegis," I answered. "I found him in the grounds of Parfum Palace. It appeared to me. He is not a Pokémon described in legend."

"A sword of destiny," Wikstrom muttered. "It would not be strange. Joyeuse had sworn into service under the de Rais family and my thrice-accursed ancestor. If your Aegis is truly Durandal, the enduring sword that Jeanne la Pucelle once wielded under the siege d'Illumis, perhaps it is a sign."

"Of what? Destiny?" I laughed. "Heroes... heroes are the reason we ignore collective action problems. To shelve all the problems of the world upon an ordinary person, made to stand on a pedestal for society to admire... No, heroes are not needed."

Wikstrom's face set. "You are one."

"Living heroes, they disappoint," I commented. "On that, the late Lysandre and I must unfortunately agree. It is only with a certain cloak of invincibility that heroes do inspire... and not always well. Look at your history, Wikstrom."

"About that..." Wikstrom hesitated. "My family staff found documents dated to the Century War. We are certain of their origin, and we are set to exhibit them privately on a cruise co-sponsored by Morelle Shipping before loaning them to the Lumiose Museum."

"You believe them written by the Marshal Gilles de Rais?" I asked.

"It seems so," Wikstrom replied. "'Tis difficult to prove such matters. It is one of the few clues that Kalos holds to la Pucelle. The gardener-"

"Stop. Please." I shook my head.

The Maid of Lumiose, the maiden of brightness. A peasant girl, who supposedly pleaded for nothing but her home-town of Geosenge to be forever free of taxes, fought against invaders and united Kalos for a king who betrayed her in the end. Gilles de Rais fell into history as a bloodthirsty monster after her martyrdom. Her moniker, La Pucelle... Lysandre had died smiling with those words upon his lips.

What power could Jeanne of Cromlac'h, Princess of Notre Dame and head of La Maison chevaleresque d'Arc , Champion of the Victory Road, hold over such men. Seduction or inspiration was irrelevant; revolutionaries and monarchists, aristocrats and peasants paid lip service at minimum to the short-lived, but enduring, legend.

Sometimes, I mused, Wikstrom might have imagined making love to the Maid herself. It would have been a difficult prospect, I imagined, until I arrived like history reincarnate.

"We could see them together once you are at Lumiose City," Wikstrom took my hand, kissing the back of it. "Madame." My lady.

"Sometimes I think you see me as another Jeanne d'Arc." I replied.

"You hold the Honour of Kalos, and the style of Serene Highness," Wikstrom reasoned. "Though your title be cast aside, thou art my lady still."

"Enough with the ancient language," I instructed. "Wikstrom... I don't think this will work out."

Wikstrom remained silent. "May I ask why?"

"When you look at me, what do you see?"

Here, he took a moment to pause. "I see a heroine. One who would rather suffer in silence for her adopted homeland. She is wondrous fair, blue of eye and gold of hair. This day, though, her eyes of emerald and hair of midnight is not... displeasing. I might say it a more natural guise for my lady. I love her as my lady and chatelaine, my indomitable Champion."

"You love her."

"I would marry her should she acquiesce."

"But I am not a hero now," I explained. "I want to wander the region doing work that would likely topple the known social order given the right edge. I want to feed my Pokémon inappropriate foods and bask with them under the sun and splash into the water. I get sick too, I cry too, I get angry too, and I would like that to be fine. I'm sorry, Wikstrom, because I keep disappointing you."

I stood and left him. Liz floated by my side. There was a Shiny Stone with her name on it, now if only she could master Moonblast...

There is an interesting paradox to the long-lived investing in companionship. It made one wonder how old must the companions of AZ be now. Years upon years of wandering a familiar land, long before the concept of a region or solid borders became common; anyone would be lost. The long-lived would have to hide their existences, never rising above a certain view, never enjoying public life, invested relationships...

In my pocket, I fingered the glittering evolutionary stone. I took it out to the light, the dim white shining in my hands. It called to me... it glittered in my eye. There was a matching stone in my bag. Violet, violently so, but no less brilliant than the jewel I held now. Unlike its twin, though, I had used that stone time and time again. Wikstrom should know a jeweller.

I arrived back at the Coumarine Hotel with the name of a jeweller in Lumiose. I knew what I would make; it remained to see if any jeweller would break up an evolutionary stone. The Fleur-de-Lis kings, especially the one who sank into history as the Roi-Soleil, had decorated the Couronne de l'Arbre with the evolutionary stones set in facets and topped with the Sun Stone. L'état, c'est moi? The crown of a tree that rule over a garden... were Kalos a garden, its kings would be gardeners, and the gentry the flowers; until the Revolution, that is. Sometimes, a gardener forgot that a garden populated only with flowers would be choked to death by the grass.

Four years ago, I was still an academic nobody; I was at the École Normale Supérieure , as a lecturer in political science and sociology. I had just published my dissertation; next was the associate professorship, possibly tenure. The humanities tended to stick together, especially in my chosen field. I could understand, sometimes, this rivalry of sciences and humanities.

A visiting professor was discussing the 'garden philosophy' practised by Kalosian rulers to justify continued rule and coups, in comparison with the Glorious Mandate of Indigo Plateau during the Ransei era. The entire Champion system, he theorised, stemmed from such politically charged philosophies, and the remarkable degree of agreement between otherwise divergent cultures could have been a result of a common link.

"The mysterious Sea Spirit that hovered over Azure Bay, perhaps?" I asked. "Articuno, Zapdos and Moltres have been sighted before. Perhaps one of these Pokémon granted some measure of inspiration to the rulers of ancient Kalos."

The professor gained a funny look on his face. "Well, that is an interesting hypothesis, that Pokémon could serve as vectors of philosophy! I congratulate you, Ms du Bois! About this Sea Spirit's Den..."

I begged off immediately. He spent the rest of the evening interrogating the geography professors with regards of the Sea Spirit's Den. The last I heard, he was sunk somewhere between the Azure Bay and Alto Mare...

In my shadow, the Haunter from last night rose, slightly bluish in the light.

"Good afternoon," I paid little mind to it afterwards as I walked the streets of Coumarine.

"I think you're a glutton," Donar said when he found me contemplating the ardoise outside the hotel restaurant with Haunter.

"I like my food, and so do you," I answered. "Bonjour, Donar. You appear to have misplaced your manners today."

"Right. Whatever."

One dose of fear of authority, coming right up. "Would you like to repeat that, Donar? The restaurant has a lovely consommé. I understand that Magikarp were boiled to make the stock."

"N- No! I'm sorry!" Donar heaved a breath. "Just... Noël said something that made me think."

I remained silent.

"I think... I've been overly dependent on you," Donar confessed. "And... Noël... it's like having my house travelling with me, sometimes. I train with professional help, I eat better than most Trainers splurging, and... I'm very lucky. It makes me feel... inadequate as a Trainer. Like I'm not doing enough if I keep relying on my support base."

I considered. "Interesting comparison."

Donar scowled. "It's... Training is supposed to be a time of independence, right?"

"Your story is like those of the Phantump," I murmured. In the distance, Altair and Darkrai's forms could be glimpsed walking towards us.

"What?" Donar blinked.

"In times of plague, hunger, or war, the children of the peasantry were often the first casualties," I recalled. "The forests, in both Snowbelle and Santalune, became the destination for some lost children, orphans and runaways alike. Many found in them only an early grave."

Jeanne d'Arc, the legendary heroine, was one of these war orphans. She was one of the fortunate ones.

Donar considered. "How does this relate? Not that Kalosian history isn't relevant..."

"The common belief holds that the forests hold a magic where Xerneas had cast, and the children gained lifespans which dwarf those of their human bodies, trapped in the stumps of trees," I explained. "These children become Phantump, but dying has changed them. Society can do little for these dead, but it has not forgotten. Today, children are taught how to train Pokémon, should they ever need one to survive."

"... creepy story aside, and thanks for telling me that you're toting around the ghost of a kid," Donar said, "how do I relate to them?"

"The story is not an Aesop, but an object lesson, Donar. Infrastructure is not part of the scenery. Even should one choose not to use it, does not mean that the choice is not present, that we do not help you to live. Independence is well and good, but that does not mean that suffering need be included. It can be relatively comfortable, relatively safe to journey, if properly planned and executed. In fact, planning long-term is a good example of a Trainer, since it often means that such Trainers survive the trip through Victory Road without needing to be rescued by Rangers."

"Right. That's a good point," he nodded.

"You've been learning to cook and set up camp from me," I commented archly. "I wouldn't call your situation comfortable yet. Merely... prepared."

Donar ignored me. "But, I don't get why Léa's uncle didn't meet Léa at all before now. I mean, clearly there's something between them, like some... secret."

"Léa Morelle has an uncle?"

"Achillée Morelle," Donar informed me. "Bit of a creep. I don't like him."

"You shouldn't," I answered. "What did your friends say?"

"They haven't," Donar replied curiously. "In fact, they're keeping their distance."

"Smart."

"Why?" Donar sounded curious. "I mean, Kalos is a free country, right?"

"In the sense you are possibly thinking of, yes," I replied. "All regions do hold some form of democratic practise. However, certain families or relationships allow people to seize power via less than democratic means. In Kalos, for example, there was an aristocracy. The Kalosian Revolution happened, which toppled the court and demolished the monarchy. However, the aristocracy survived as the leaders of the revolution; families like the Fleur-de-Lis and de Rais still hold power, and defunct titles such as d'Arc continue. The Morelle is old, and of higher social status than the de Rais. It does not hurt their power base, too, that Achillée Morelle is not squeamish to violence."

"What do you mean?"

"Association with the Morelle is dangerous," I cautioned. "Should you interfere, death will almost certainly follow."

"Léa's in danger?" Donar demanded.

"Of course she is," I considered. "With great certainty, Léa Morelle is in grave danger. She is possibly already dead."

I hate being an authority figure. It gets you nothing but grief in a child's world.

I will not give in. I will not give in. I will not give in.

– Marguerite Linden du Bois

One thing I'm always confused about evolutionary stones is why do they disappear after their use. And, I can't believe no one ever considered using those stones in jewellery. They can't argue that jewellery don't exist; I mean, in the animé they described a case involving a stolen jewel called the Eye of the Liepard. So, I postulated an imaginary scenario of a crown inlaid with evolutionary stones.

The 'garden philosophy' and the Glorious Mandate are terms I coined to describe the Champion system in culturally divergent contexts. Garden philosophy and Glorious Mandate both discuss divine mandate in kingship/Championship, but also allow for the disposal of rulers. Yet, there is also a distinction between civil and military matters; in Kalos, the Champion is the head of state, not necessarily the head of the military. Contrast Ransei, which later divided into Kanto and Johto, where the Champion and head of state are one and the same.

Also contrast Hoenn, Sinnoh and Unova, which I believe developed through different political philosophies which may or may not be discussed.

The 'second speed' is a concept explained in birdboy's Pokedex drabbles.

Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!