Savoir-faire – To Know and To Do

XXX: Recevoir – To Receive

Day 69: Most of the work through yesterday and the day before involved reconnaissance work. It took a while, but I had finally located Pumpkaboo within the ship. The Pumpkin Pokémon might not have human contact other than their captors, but it could send messages via Pokémon telepathy, albeit abbreviated ones. The implications that Achillée Morelle were onto us were disturbing; perhaps the Morelle as a whole held Sableye blood in their veins.

The worst, and best, piece of news I had gotten as well: the sudden announcement, that not only was Ramos onboard, he had brought Siebold with him...

Ramos was saved from my accosting by Guillaume Gagné. To be more accurate, an undercover Woten Oak accosted me with a gun pressed to my sacrum.

"Why, bonsoir," I began once the man had discreetly pressed me away from the main crowd in the exhibition hall of insured antiquities into a side room, presumably a box-room meant for storage, and the gun was in front of me instead of threatening severe spinal damage. "Monsieur Gagné?"

"Cut the crap, Doctor," Woten Oak growled. "Why are you here?"

" Pardonnez-moi? " I falsely answered. "I was unaware that a scholar could not take an interest in matters outside of her field of study."

"Dr Marguerite Linden du Bois," M. Oak patiently continued. "I know you know who I am. If you are working for Morelle, and you have Donar onboard, I promise you will not survive this cruise. Now. Where. Is my. Son."

"...The situation for the first caveat happens to be the complete opposite," I answered, watching his black gun, held in a meaty fist ending in the cuffs unique to Kalosian haute couture. "The latter caveat, unfortunately, is true. Yet I must add that the situation fell into the rescue of the Morelle girl."

Woten Oak stared.

"It appears that you do not know," I added. "Léa Morelle and your son share... an acquaintance. Mademoiselle Morelle is, unfortunately, detained at the expense of her uncle aboard the Azur at the moment. I believe that she might be shipped out along with the Zapdos corpse aboard this ship for its funeral by boat, and presumably burnt along with the corpse."

At this, Woten Oak's face took on an interesting sheen. "Intelligence said that Morelle was trafficking the Zapdos corpse to Unova."

I could feel an eyebrow twitching. "Some targets are too recognisable to traffic, and a Zapdos corpse is assuredly being kept under view by the Ranger Union's agents."

"Achillée Morelle is a known supplier," Woten Oak stubbornly insisted. "Particularly of Pokémon body parts. Transporting a Zapdos wholesale to be chopped up and sold for some inane, superstitious reason and desecrating a Pokémon corpse at the same time t0 prevent their reincarnation is exactly what he would do."

"I see you're a believer in that Sinnoh myth," I observed. I wonder how he would react when faced with the Lumiose Museum's taxidermied Pokémon. "That does not, however, solve the dilemma of Léa Morelle and your son."

"I thought as an authority figure, you were supposed to stop them," he accused me.

"Without my input, I am very assured that they would have gone about their merry way, gotten caught, and you would have dredged perhaps a finger from Route 13," I replied. "This way, I have organised three Elite Four members aboard the Azur for my assistance."

Woten Oak's eyebrows shot up. "Wikstrom?"

I did not reply directly. "Your gun, monsieur, will be a distraction if I have to slap you out of this box-room."

He tucked it away.

I slapped him, charging out with vitriol spewing from my lips in a full effect. This also had the effect of drawing all attention to M. Gagné rushing out of the box-room, charging to me as Wikstrom strode up. For a chevalier, Wikstrom can and would fight dirty. He punched the man; I winced. Those gauntlets would hurt.

Either way, Wikstrom's diatribe of insulting the honour of a lady did not go remiss while Serena, Donar and Noël Duval snuck out of the exhibit room. There were security cameras to worry about, or there would have been if I had not already posted Darkrai and Altair on the case.

I hope they were having a better time of it than I, at least. So I thought when Wikstrom was literally going to fight bare-handed and Siebold had to intervene. The chef was surprisingly competent at Savate.

The night before we enacted what I called Operation Rescue Léa, and the Kalosian press called the impromptu arrest of Achillée Morelle on kidnapping and attempted murder, was pretty sleepless for Dr du Bois. She was poring over schematics of the SS Azur that I had no idea how she got on such short notice, and didn't want to know.

"What could happen?" it was a light-hearted joke, but then Dr du Bois fixed me with a glare.

"We could drown, and our bodies rot, and until we float up and reach some dry land no one would ever find any of us." Dr du Bois detailed. "Plus, your friend would die."

So I was the only one who went to sleep upon orders, turning in with a light shining through the adjoining door where Dr du Bois kept her own room in the Hotel Coumarine.

I dreamt that we were in a three-on-three battle.

I was seeing that Delphox again, this time strutting on the field in an elaborate kabuki move. It was unlike Elmo; where Serena's partner started and ended with efficiency and power, this Delphox seemed to focus more on showmanship and fighting dirty. Some of the moves, such as using Future Sight without command, was really frowned upon, and it appeared not to have been remarked upon. The Delphox had also snuck in a Sunny Day during a delay where it strutted around the battlefield to taunt its opposing Toxicroak, who was still and not attacking from surprise. I could see its aura of power, much of it controlled, tamed to be cast if only to sucker the opponent into a loss.

"Can y'all control your beasties, gal?" my opponent scowled.

His face morphed, though, when the Future Sight knocked the Toxicroak right out.

"Excellent, Delphi," I praised, the words foreign on my lips as the Delphox gave a curtsy. "It's your turn, Deneb!"

Deneb turned out to be the Venusaur, who faced an Electivire. The Electivire was about to rush during the prep time for Solar Beam, but the Solar Beam, surprisingly, hit extremely fast and powerful enough to send it flying out of the battlefield.

"Damn... it's your turn, Roserade!" my opponent commanded to the Bouquet Pokémon he summoned. "Roserade, she's downed Toxicroak and Electivire by cheating, we definitely won't let her win!"

"Cheating?" My voice sounded cool. "The League battle regulations state that, as long as the moves hit after the declaration of battle, it is permissible. The fact that it caught you off guard was merely good strategy. Now, Deneb... let us finish this."

I could feel my arm lift, and I was wearing some sort of black manacle, the stone set into it shining with hidden light.

"Deneb... Earthquake."

I awoke.

I had no idea what any of that meant; why I had a Delphox and a Venusaur, named Delphi and Deneb respectively, when that Delphox had skirted tournament regulations and when that Venusaur evolved. I was shaking; the memory somehow tinged with a bitter sweetness that made no sense to my conscious mind.

I got out of my bed and the sheets I tossed about; around me, my Pokémon slept peacefully. I was the only one affected with this curse of Darkrai... or was it something else?

I tried to make sense: throughout the Azur infiltration; after I got away from Cynthia, even now as we searched the storage area of the ship while Dr du Bois played her merry hell upon its other passengers.

"We should split up," Noël said. "Keep your Holo Casters on for quick message."

"Right..." I nodded. "Serena?"

"I- I'm following," Serena swallowed. "I can't see in the dark."

"Neither can I. What makes you think I can see in the dark?"

"Well, you hang out with that creep. Maybe you learned something."

"Yeah, about babysitting and cooking on an open fire. Not night vision. How does anyone learn night vision, anyway?"

"Children," Noël sighed. "Just keep it down."

"Sorry." We said together.

Serena and I left Noël, spreading from the storage area out towards the decks. Crates and boxes and barrels surrounded us, mainly wood or plastic or steel painted over in plain colours. Some of those looked awfully like... a large cage.

By the back of my belt, a Pokéball burst open, calling Frogadier by my side.

"Thank you," I whispered, reaching down to give Frogadier a pat on the back. "Watch my back, please?"

"Fro, gadier, fro," he rumbled. "Fro?"

I looked at what Frogadier indicated; a large, glided coffin of black lacquered wood, with gold gilt. There were no guards, but the glimpses of red lights in the darkness seemed like there were electronic eyes upon it.

"What's going on?" Serena demanded behind me.

"We found the Zapdos corpse. Turn back. Léa should be somewhere around."

A few steps later, I bumped into a crate, stifling my gasp as the pain shot across my hipbone. "Ow..."

A hissing imparted around my knee, before a miniature orange light glowed. I blinked as a ring of blue-white flame appeared, precisely circling it-

Pumpkaboo spat, ignoring us in favour of the ambush that had surrounded it. Around it, little vines crept out of the ground, defending the little Pumpkin Pokémon. Several Pawniard were apparently congregating on the little Pumpkaboo, warily skirting the ring of vines that they could cut, at great cost to themselves.

"Heracross!" I called my newest Pokémon, who blinked in the dimness but growled. "Brick Break!"

The Pawniard scattered, about to attack physically when the Will-O-Wisp descended upon them. Something like sandpaper echoed, and it took a while before I realised that they were screams of pain. An additional flare of purple light glowed, lighting on blonde hair-

"Léa?!" I called.

"Donar?" Léa poked her head out of the shadows, nervous. "Oh, stars. Donar, Serena!"

"Well, looks like that woman was right," Serena admitted grudgingly. "Are you alright?"

Léa nodded stiffly. "Uncle- Morelle, Achillée Morelle, he locked me in his basement. Then he put me in a crate and got me onto this... where are we?"

I looked around. The storage area was small... definitely smaller than what I thought, and if what I thought was true... "We're in a separate boat," I realised. "The same boat that's going to float out Zapdos, and you, Léa, and then... those crates..."

"Donar?!" Serena's cry cut off as I tore towards a crate beside a barrel.

"Heracross, please help me open this," I called.

"Herc!" A Brick Break splintered wood to release the contents of it; several packets of some flat, dry substance.

"Black stone?" Serena picked one up.

"Charcoal," I grimly confessed, checking out the barrel. "Gasoline, and a starter. We can catch up after we get out of this explosive situation."

"R- Right." Léa grabbed Pumpkaboo, running out alongside me.

We were nearly out to the deck when the howls of Houndoom echoed.

"There must be financial records."

Around us, our Pokémon were eating, which was good since I had only six Pokémon to feed; Aegis was self-sufficient in that I didn't need to give him food, and I had dumped Jelly into the sea before boarding the Azur. The salt-water environment would do her a world of good. Both our Aegislash; my Aegis and Wikstrom's Joyeuse, hung around.

Wikstrom blinked from his hachis parmentier . " Excusez-moi? "

"The unfortunate Mr Gagné," I referred to the undercover International Police agent in the ship's infirmary, "was investigating the possible trafficking of that Zapdos corpse by our gracious host. He must have been paid half beforehand, or why would anyone try a crime of such magnitude? Especially a cautious man. I'm thinking a ballpark of ten million. Minimum."

"A financial transaction of such a magnitude to an individual is suspect," Wikstrom nodded. "Say that you are right, and the company is being used to process the transaction. It's merely a matter of investigating, yes?"

"Not with Steven Stone aboard," I looked around the dining room. Men in suits, mainly; most of the children had elected for either an early or late dinner, while I played the crowds and Mr Morelle. There must be no connection. "How many people are there?"

Wikstrom joined me, after glowering towards Morelle and Grimsley. "Too many people. Scholars like yourself, a few – certified – professors from the Musée d'Illumis , too afraid of you to approach."

I snorted into my helping of hachis. "Unsurprising. I see law school types, and a law professor. Lawyers around Steven Stone, too."

"And?"

"This is a buyout," I concluded. "No witnesses, no reporters... secret negotiations to be under way presumably after the act."

Even if Léa Morelle could be rescued, there was the problem of the rest of the cruise. I had no desire to be continually running around a limited space from Morelle's guards, nor of dragging anyone down with him. Any leeway would allow the man to escape, and some men were like Lysandre Fleur-de-Lis. If I had my way, Morelle would not survive his cruise.

First steps first.

I considered my options. Cynthia was peering – rather indiscreetly, I might add – towards my direction. Steven Stone was dining with the Sinnoan Champion; they looked awkward, rather like a couple on their first date. The Lumiose Museum staff were trying to shy away from our table; I caught sight of one doing the opposite, and vaguely recalled an undergraduate beginning on his honours thesis.

Was Cynthia with Stone in this? Certainly unwitting, if she were; Steven Stone was, and is, many things, but stupid was not one of them.

A few movers and shakers, including the Deçolorois millionaire from the Casino Bord de Mer. The best odds were the millionaire, but how would I go about it...? Was it a good idea? Back-burner first.

Darkrai floated out of my shadow. Almost at once, Wikstrom's Klefki and Scizor stopped eating for a pause, before the entirety of Wikstrom's team went back to their meal. It spoke well for their awareness, especially when Phantump floated to my lap.

"You'll love the St. Honoré cake," I told him as the server escorted a large, sugary confection up. The classic dessert was a circle of puff pastry at its base, with a ring of pâte à choux piped on the outer edge. After the base is baked small cream puffs are dipped in caramelized sugar and attached side by side on top of the circle of the pâte à choux. Crème chiboust was present within, I knew.

" Il est avec vous, madame?" the server asked.

"Oui," I answered. " C'est bien? "

The server shook his head. " Qui dormait ici, madame ? "

I could get behind the sentiment.

What did he say? Darkrai asked, already starting on his portion of the zest-infused dessert.

"He said that people who sleep here deserves what's coming to them," I replied. "Gallows humour, that one. The ship is big enough to isolate the Bad Dreams ability into either here or the exhibition hall."

Of course. Impression of hostility resolved, Darkrai turned back to his St. Honoré cake. This is very good, he declared with the air of an explorer.

"And the fact that you are on a ship once more?"

A strange feeling. Like a new adventure. A pondering silence ensued. I am very lucky. The taste of liberty at hand, aboard a conveyance to another world, not knowing what was coming, better or worse.

The Oran zest soured on my tongue, pleasantly flavourful. I hummed, licking the crème off of my dessert spoon. Life was rather peaceful. I shared the rest of my dessert with Phantump, who crooned at me.

The mind of Altair was a marvel, blue-steeled and tempered as a honed blade might have been even in telepathic communication. Léa Morelle is onboard. I also sensed the boy and girl, along with Noël Duval. They bumped into a portable first-aid kit along the railings; it contains bags of pressurised blood, transfusion tubes, and a portable operating theatre, possibly. Why so much equipment?

I did not like the idea of the Duval heir-apparent so close to my protégé; yet, it was so. Very well. Léa Morelle had been located, and so had the Zapdos corpse. Donar and Serena would not keep Léa in the lurch, despite my plan; they would rescue her, as I knew Noël Duval would follow. Then, when primed...

The security onboard found them. Houndoom and Murkrow, as predicted, though the Murkrow have been convinced.

"Use the bagged blood as a distraction," I pondered as mints and coffee were served. "If you must, toss them overboard."

"Return, Heracross! Frogadier, Water Pulse!"

The blue spheres hit at the same time as the red light containing Heracross made it back to the Pokéball. It was lucky, too; the Fire Blast would have impacted quickly and sent the storage area, along with most of the ship, up in flames.

"Spout, Rapid Spin!" Serena told her Wartortle, who complied to knock over a bunch like so many bowling pins. A Murkrow screeched overhead on its dive, but other than that the dark birds seemed to hang around as bloody sirens through the background noise.

"Leech Seed," Léa commanded, watching the vines sprout around us. "Oh no, we're trapped-"

"Kill them," came the war cry.

Frogadier released more Water Pulses, but the Houndoom kept advancing, burning through the flimsy vines that clung no more than a hindrance. Frogadier tossed Spikes; they kept coming.

"W- What do we do?" Serena nervously whispered as Will-O-Wisp surrounded us. Léa's eyes burned bright as she cast the flames with a flick of her wrist, yet the ghostly conflagration burned out against a giant Fire Blast that we narrowly dodged.

"They're Fire-types, right?" I blinked. "Will-O-Wisp doesn't... work..."

The howls increased in volume, earning a collective cringe. "They realised it," Léa panted, slumping against the railing. "What do we do now? Wait for the fiery death?"

Against the night sky, surrounded by smoking wood and the char of a horde of Houndoom about to barbecue us, a ray of light I saw. Then a sphere of light flew, striking Léa. Blood flecked the railings, and I felt the cold liquid strike my skin. The splash echoed in my ears, but I could not feel, could not think in the chaos as my friend disappeared into the inky blackness of the Azure Bay.

Pumpkaboo screamed as both of them went over the deck with a splash.

"The girl is-"

I could not finish hearing what the men said, even through the Houndoom growls and screeches of Murkrow, for I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. Almost immediately after, Frogadier's screech rang in my ears as the floor left my feet and I realised, alongside Serena's terrible scream, that I had been thrown overboard, looking at the one who had done this, with his garnet eyes and tall ears and expressionless face.

The face that only a Lucario could produce.

It is a truism that Pokémon Trainers are glory-seekers. It is true that, sometimes, Pokémon training can be regarded as barbaric, a blood sport.

Even so, it must be said, that a battle of powerful Trainers were akin to miniature armies clashing for supremacy. The only way not to have innocents caught in the crossfire... was to excuse them first.

– Marguerite Linden du Bois

Announcement: In light of my latest project, Keeper of the Crown, and the start of summer school, I will be attempting a weekly posting plan. Which means that, with any luck, the next chapter shall be released on Wednesday.

Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!