Yellow heard the call first while deep in her slumber.
As she shot up from her bed, staring wide-eyed at the wall, only one word came.
"Lancelot."
There was no question as she scrambled out of bed. Every fiber of Yellow's body told her to break through all the doors and walls to get to Lancelot, even if her tiny fists shattered from the impact. Lancelot was in trouble — big trouble — and if he didn't get out soon, he would be dead.
"Lancelot," she gasped, reaching towards the locked door, "Lancelot. Lancelot."
A large shock suddenly entered through her system as if lightning struck her. Yellow flung backwards, knocking her small body towards her bed again. She tried to leap towards the door, but the bolt came through her again and knocked her away.
Panic seeped in. What was going on? Why couldn't she get through the door? Was it even the door? Her hands grasped the sides of her bed as she struggled to her feet, forcing herself to stand upright.
Lancelot. That was the only thing on her mind. Yellow squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think of what she could do. Why could she only feel?
"Lancelot," Yellow gripped the bed frame as she focused her mind, "Lancelot. Can you hear me?"
The room didn't move an inch, and neither did the door. Her hands squeezed harder, trying to think of her poor friend. Where was he? She just couldn't place him.
"Lancelot, can you hear me?"
An echo crept into the room. A piercing, loud echo that seemed to stretch beyond time and space. Distortion filled her mind as the image of Lancelot bled away from her brain.
Focus. Lancelot is a boy. He has pinkish red hair and gold eyes. He is a brave knight who rescues princesses. He is a good friend. He knows everything about Team Rocket and how to steal food. Lancelot stands up for Pokemon and hates dogs. Rules and routine are very important to him.
Yellow felt pain rise from her wrists as she held the image, but it still wasn't enough of a picture. Why? Were there things about Lancelot that she did not know about? Things like Lancelot did not even know about himself?
Her bedside table rattled as the walls moved around Yellow. In seconds, a wave of despair and pain washed over her as energy filled the room. The child could feel another presence reaching out to her as if… as if…
"Yellow!" a voice cried out from the void. "Don't come in here!"
It was Lancelot. But he was in pain! Why would he not want help? Was there something terrifying on the other side?
"Let me in," Yellow demanded the unseen energy presence, "Let me help you!"
"You can't help me! Go away!" Lancelot's echo screeched, "I mean it! Don't come here! Don't come here!"
"Come where?!" she snapped, "You're not —!"
FOUND YOU!
Yellow opened her eyes, and a rush of pain flooded behind her forehead. Her body lurched forward as if they yanked it, barreling her towards an uncertain emptiness. The room groaned and melted away as young Yellow fell into the chasm of nothingness.
Strong tendrils of energy wrapped around her neck and mouth, capturing her breath. Yellow tried to cry out to alert someone, but to no avail; the tendrils simply wrapped more and more until she thought her head would pop.
"Yellow!" a screech kept her from fainting, "Yellow, just breathe!"
Tears squeezed from her eyes from the pain, but she could think of no better plan. Forcing every part of her lungs to work, Yellow took a deep breath.
Exhale.
The tendrils blew away.
Inhale.
"There you are."
That sounded like a familiar, yet annoyed, boy. Lancelot was standing before her with a scowl written across his face as if her actions exasperated him.
Instead of his usual grunt uniform, Lancelot wore a white Executive suit that eerily resembled Archer's. His angled turtleneck dipped downwards, as if to resemble a high cape collar, while his jacket was longer in the back to allow for coattails. He fastened several buttons around his waist, probably to help attach the necessary Pokeballs or tools to use at a moment's notice.
Even his hair was styled more elegantly instead of his usual comb-over, resembling a proper gentleman. Like Archer, nothing gave any indication of sloppiness or imperfections, as if he was in absolute control.
Yellow must be alive, but who knew if being alive was the better option?
"I told you not to come," Lancelot hissed, his eyes flashing from anger. "Why don't you listen for once?"
If only his emotions could also resemble being in perfect control. Yellow brushed herself off, standing up to glare right back at him. However, the sight of her surroundings prevented a snotty reply.
They were in a labyrinth, but not of trees or branches like Yellow had seen in Mother Forest. It was a confusing and agonizing maze of bare walls and stillness that stretched for eons into the cosmos, forever shifting and changing under their feet. They built each wall to the heavens, making it impossible to climb over and essentially trapping them like rats.
Even the air felt chilly, sapping the heat right off Yellow's cheeks. Lancelot already looked so pale…
"I would not leave you here," Yellow said. "Besides, I don't know where here is. How did I get here? Where are we?"
The boy gestured, "How would I know that? I've been stuck here for what seems like… forever. I can't get out, but there's something bad here. It hurts just standing here."
"Well, good thing I came then," Yellow remarked, satisfied with her victory over their petty dispute.
"No. You're trapped here too, you idiot," Lancelot corrected her. "Now we both can't get out, and how are we supposed to go to class or training tomorrow?"
Strange priorities for a boy that could be eternally trapped and/or killed here. The last thing on Yellow's mind was doing some multiplication tables to appease the masters. She glanced over at Lancelot again, seeing him hyper-focused on something miniscule in the distance.
"Maybe we should try to look around for an exit?" Yellow suggested, seeing Lancelot roll his eyes.
"I already did that. I'm not stupid," Lancelot said rather defensively, "And what are you wearing? You're out of uniform. You're going to get into trouble. I should report you for violation."
Uniform? Why did Lancelot care about uniforms right now? Did he not notice the looming demise waiting for both of them in this freakish place? And of course Yellow wasn't. She had been fast asleep. However, she lifted her arm and noticed her old long-sleeved top again. Surprised, she stepped back and felt something on her head.
Her old straw hat! And her boots! They were all back? Confused, Yellow saw Lancelot staring off in the distance again, as if he distracted again.
"Where did this come from?" Yellow muttered, "Where are we?"
"Stop asking questions and let me think," Lancelot complained. "There has to be a way out. There's always a way out. But every way we go, it's just not right. That can't be right…"
Perhaps it was best to leave the muttering boy to his own devices. Yellow stepped toward a wall, pressing her hand against it and feeling the intense cold shoot through her. Her body shivered immediately, and she felt her face grow more pale.
This place was taking their energy. Feeding them. She yanked her hand back, hugging herself to protect from the cold. In moments, Yellow's fingers could succumb to frostbite and Lancelot was already shaking from lack of heat.
"It's eating us," Yellow pieced together, "Slowly."
"I know that!" Lancelot snapped again, frustrated. "I know all that! Stop talking! You're giving me a headache."
She would have felt sorry for him — the poor kid was at his intellectual limits being stumped by this bizarre place — but it was too cold and tiring to do so. Yellow blew air into her hands, wondering how else to get through.
The walls were freezing cold, and the maze was changing every second. If they walked, it would sap their strength in an hour. Yellow eyed her friend, seeing him now bent over to keep his body upright.
"Lancelot?" she asked, "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he spat.
Yellow didn't believe him, and she didn't have the energy to argue. Lancelot needed heat or he would certainly wither away into the void.
Slowly, she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. The boy flinched as if he was being struck, but her hug quickly subdued him. In moments, Yellow could feel his body warm up again from the sudden touch. Even his frustrated little face got some color back in his cheeks.
Lancelot eventually relented, squeezing her as if his life depended on it. Yellow could hear his heartbeat quicken as energy flowed between the two. His hands awkwardly clenched at her clothes as if he did not know what to do with them, but Lancelot relaxed enough to breathe into her hair.
"Thank you," he said.
"We should find a way out," Yellow suggested, cracking a smile.
"No kidding," Lancelot said, resuming his previous stance and letting her go. "We only have so much time. I tried every direction already, and it went nowhere. It's just busy work intended to drain us by focusing on meaningless stuff."
He was right. If there was one thing Lancelot was, he was observant. Yellow idly stamped her foot from irritation, feeling the soft ground come up around her boot like a damp forest floor. It occurred to her it was the same floor that Yellow used to dig Pokemon homes and mud houses to play in.
"... Can we go through the floor?"
Lancelot rolled his eyes at the very suggestion. "Why would that work? That makes little sense."
"I don't think things are supposed to make sense here," Yellow said as her heel bounced on the floor.
"That's stupid! Things make the same amount of sense wherever we go!" Lancelot shot back as if he was wounded. "We can't go through the floor. We can only go up, down, left, or right! Going through the floor is… is… well, it's just silly!"
Yellow squinted her eyes. "So why can't we go down into the floor?"
Her companion threw his hands up. "I meant like… down the stairs! We have no way to tunnel down. We have nothing to tunnel down with!"
"We have hands," Yellow stated as if it was so simple before kneeling down on the ground, "What, you never dug a hole before?"
"Why would I dig a hole? In what sense would me digging a hole —" Lancelot lambasted before kneeling down as well, " — Help Team Rocket in any sort of way? This is dumb."
"I can show y—"
"Fine! Show me! We have little time, you insolent little —"
Yellow's hands dug into the soft ground, seeing it fall apart as she pulled it away. Lancelot's eyes widened from surprise and awe, but he followed suit. It didn't take long for their outfits to become dirty with whatever star substance they were digging into, but they had a long way to go.
However, Lancelot was the first to hit something hard. "Yellow? They buried something here."
Buried? Yellow's hand hit it as well. Before she could watch it, the ground lurched as if it was pain. A loud moan rumbled under their feet before spikes emerged from under the children's feet.
Yellow screeched as one narrowly missed piercing her foot, jumping as far as possible before another one jammed into her shoulder. Lancelot was in a similar predicament, having two spikes lodged into his upper thigh as he tried to struggle loose.
"I can't get free!" Lancelot shrilled as he attempted to dislodge them. "Yellow! Yellow, call for help!"
"Wh- what?" Yellow mumbled as pain flooded her senses.
"Call for Mother Forest!" her companion demanded. "You said you can hear Mother Forest? Can't you?"
Mot—
Mother Forest is not here.
Yellow wailed in frustration as the mental block pushed against her brain. Her hands grasped out around the spikes, unable to think as she felt more pierce against her small body. Whatever beast was lurking underneath, it was beyond freaking out and turned its rage against them.
"Lancelot, you…" Yellow coughed from the pain, "... call for Moth — Mother Forest."
Shock came across the boy's face. "Me?"
"I can-can't. You have to," Yellow mumbled, feeling dizzy, "You have to call."
"But I ne- never… there's not even such a thing as Mother Forest!" Lancelot blurted out, now more consumed with the suggestion that their predicament, "I don't even… !"
Yellow's expression forced him to stop, telling him everything he knew already. Lancelot's worry lifted his gaze upwards as his body trembled, raising his hand against the air as the ground and walls fought for the pleasure of entombing them.
"Mother Forest, please help," he squeaked out. "Mother Forest, can you hear me?"
The ground rumbled again. Roots grew within the spikes, breaking them apart with such force that the children had to look away to not get flying shrapnel in their eyes. The aboveground maze shuddered and broke apart right away, collapsing around the two as the roots grew more and more.
My sweet boy. How I missed you.
"Mother Forest?" Lancelot squawked in utter surprise. "Is that you?"
Come home, darling boy. Darling girl. This is no place for you. You can be with me forever.
Yellow lifted her head up, seeing the roots covering them. Everything grew dark, as if the gnarled limbs covered the sky. Something inside Yellow told her to fight her way out, as if she was in terrible danger.
"Mot —" she started.
Mother Forest is not here. And she will not be here.
The roots receded as if it suddenly struck them with pain. Large spikes formed again — sharper, harder, and more focused — as the ground lurched again. Lancelot stumbled a bit, narrowly missing a spike to the eye as he tried to regain his balance.
You can't keep my children away from me, Giovanni.
You shouldn't have children to begin with, Mother Forest.
How dare you speak that way to me. Your mother. I cared for you. I gave you everything.
You cursed us. You don't deserve praise — you deserve contempt.
HOW DARE YOU! INSOLENT LITTLE BOY, YOU KNOW NOTHING! All I ever asked was that you loved me! And you couldn't even do that, Giovanni, you couldn't even love something! But I still love you, Giovanni, I still love you because I am your mother.
And you know, Mother Forest, all I ever did was love you. It was my mistake. Your love is a curse and you've condemned these children to a life of it. But I know how to handle you now. You don't own me anymore, Mother Forest, regardless of how much I love you. A boy always loves his mother.
Yellow became paralyzed with fear as the spikes appeared to sharpen by themselves. The roots braced themselves, wrapping tighter around the two children as if it would not let go. Lancelot's face burned red as if he was struggling to breathe.
They caught both of the forest children in the middle of the fight. The ground was going to swallow them whole, but the roots came from the ground. It was hard to tell who had the upper hand, but it was plainly clear that the two would fight forever.
"Yellow," Lancelot's voice cracked out, "We're going to die."
It was disturbing how Yellow accepted that fact right away. No fight or lamentation against it. Simple, just like the concept of death. Her limbs relaxed as if to submit to her fate, but Yellow's fear was written on her face.
"Lancelot," Yellow said, "I'm sorry. This was a bad idea."
"It was the only one we had," Lancelot countered, his face now sullen as he prepared to face his death bravely. "It's not your fault. We would have died either way."
In this plane of oblivion, there was nobody else to call out to — or even if they did, they might make the situation worse. It would be better if there was more time. If only there was fire to burn this all away. If only there was water to wash it away or ice to freeze it all or…
All Yellow had was healing. Slowly, Yellow outstretched her arms to touch the entwined roots and sharp spikes. Her hand petted the two softly, as if to assure them of their feelings, before Yellow smiled sadly.
"It's okay," she said, "It'll be okay."
The two entities reeled from the warm sensation, as if they were not expecting comfort. The spikes wavered as if it wasn't sure how to proceed as the roots hesitated. It surprised Yellow that even the act of grace and love shocked her old guardian.
Perhaps fighting was all they knew.
In seconds, the spikes tore itself from the ground and split the earth under their feet as if to get away from it. The roots quivered from the pain as it also reacted poorly to the change. Yellow tried to call out in pain but —
… everything fell away.
x
It was hard to open her eyes, as if Yellow was coming from a long sleep. Her head couldn't lift itself off the ground from the intense energy waste, making it impossible to discern where she was.
Was she alive? Was Lancelot alive?
"Lancelot," a gasp of frustration broke her thoughts, "Wake up! You better wake up. I will —"
"Lancelot?" Yellow mumbled, feeling her throat muscles barely able to move.
The voice ignored her, and the small child struggled to dig for some energy before she sat up. After a few seconds, Yellow could see through the dim light and hazy environment.
It was Archer. He was standing over a sleeping and restrained Lancelot in some bed contraption. Obviously, the Executive was frantic to release him, as if he had concerns about Lancelot's state.
During all of her time at Rocket, Yellow had never seen this man so terrified of something before. Scared of his wits and demeanor.
"Mas… Arch…?" Yellow struggled to speak before Archer waved her off.
"I'll deal with you later," he snapped. "What did you do to my student? Why is he like this?"
Why would it be her fault? Yellow tried to look around, but she couldn't get a good sense of her surroundings. It looked like a prison cell — much like the one she was in at the beginning. However, it seemed smaller and…
… More menacing. Like something bad happened here.
"What did you do?" Yellow shot back with as much energy as she could gather.
That was something she didn't expect Archer to answer, but he glared at her before returning to Lancelot's limp body. After a few more seconds, the man freed Lancelot and cradled his student close to him.
"Lancelot," Archer said, his voice wavering as he embraced the boy tightly. "What mess did you get into now? Please don't die, Lancelot. Please don't die. Why do you do this to me all the time? Why can't you just be a good boy and stay out of trouble?!"
It sounded like Archer was more mad at himself than the boy. And judging by the unbrushed hair, it looked like the Executive just woke up from a deep sleep. Yellow wondered if he was sleeping in his office, and that was why it took him longer than usual to come to Lancelot's aid. Not that she suspected it would have made a bit of difference, but Archer didn't know that.
Yellow shook her head, trying to clear the fuzziness from her head. However, something nudged her in her ribs and she looked down to see what it was.
Incubo. He must have followed Archer here. The Houndour looked up at Yellow, curious and afraid, before head-butting her lightly in the ribs again.
"What's going on?" the Pokemon questioned, too afraid to even look at his master, "Why is Master upset?"
"Something bad happened," Yellow muttered, not really wanting to entertain questions now. "I don't know."
"Mother and Father fainted," Incubo reported, as if he was compelled to tell Yellow, "Something happened. Father is unbeatable."
Enma and Fulor, no doubt. Yellow couldn't think of that right now. She had too much on her plate for a little girl.
Lancelot's body slumped over on his side, forcing Archer to keep him upright to check his vitals. After a few seconds of listening, Archer tore the stethoscope from his ears before counting Lancelot's pulse with clear aggravation.
It surprised Yellow that Archer was so free to show his emotions — something she hadn't seen since she first arrived in this awful place. Then again, Lancelot was his responsibility. If the boy died or rendered useless, she couldn't imagine that Archer would escape Giovanni's wrath. After all, their value was high in Team Rocket for the time being.
But it was strange. The way Archer handled his exasperation was eerily similar to how Lancelot handled his own emotions in that strange dreamland. Their haughty scoffs and condescending tone were even the same.
How Archer was now carrying himself was clearly upsetting his Houndour, so Incubo pushed his head against her again. Yellow almost brushed him away before she felt him laying his head on her lap to cuddle the forest child.
Yellow felt a powerful flow of energy from the Pokemon before she stretched out her hand to pet it. This was the first time she had actually petted a Pokemon in a Team Rocket base. It occurred to Yellow that she shouldn't squander something she had begged to do for so long.
Incubo relented to her pets after a few seconds, finding comfort in her long and gentle strokes. Yellow could feel her muscles and mind rejuvenate, as if she was being filled with a sense of wonderment and fulfillment. Her hand petted harder, now addicted to sensation, as Incubo allowed her to continue.
After a few minutes, Yellow could regain herself. Incubo got up from her lap as if nothing had happened and sat next to Archer. Lancelot was still unmoving as Archer spoke soft, hushed words to the boy.
Did the worst come for Lancelot? Yellow couldn't think of how alone she would be now.
After another two minutes, Lancelot opened his eyes. Archer appeared to relax, as if to resume his stately mannerisms, before the boy fell back into an unconscious state. However, the Executive seemed much more controlled before he laid Lancelot back down on the bed to check him more properly.
"You are a bothersome child," Archer said, both relieved and exasperated. "Why do you do this to me, Lancelot? Can't you stay out of trouble for two seconds?"
Incubo wagged his tail, whining for another order or action he could take to help Archer. The Executive shooed away the Houndour before checking Lancelot's pulse again to confirm the worst was over.
"You're just like your mother," Archer continued, lost in the moment as if he was remembering something amusing, "Always something with you. Being in trouble brings attention and drama to you. You'd be so happy if you could have it all the time."
Perhaps Yellow should have ignored or pretended she didn't hear what Archer said. It would have been smarter. But it still piqued her interest enough for her to blurt out:
"Lancelot has a mother?"
Archer suddenly became still as if she had caught him in a terrible act and was aware of her presence once more. After two seconds, he sobered up from his reflective state and curtly gestured towards the girl as if she was being petulant on purpose.
"Amarillo, do not make up silly stories for attention," Archer scolded her. "A child should be silent and not cause disruption."
"Master Archer, you just said —"
"I said nothing of the sort," Archer cut her off. "How dare you accuse me of lying? Isn't this event traumatic enough without layering on silly lies?"
Yellow scrunched up her face. "But you did! I heard you!"
"I do not argue with disobedient children, Amarillo. You are fortunate that I am too busy tending to Lancelot and that this is an extenuating circumstance; otherwise, I would have whipped you for such a baseless accusation," The Executive derided her, "Leave. You will hear from Ariana about this."
Yellow hung her head low and bowed. However, she glanced at the door before shooting another look at the intimidating Executive.
"How do I get back, Master Archer?" Yellow asked.
"I assume the very same way you came," Archer retorted. "We'll discuss how you got here from your room at another, more appropriate time."
"I… don't know how I got here, though, Master Archer," the child admitted, watching Archer's eyes squint at her, "I was… sleeping. Then I was here."
Clearly, Archer had a fleeting thought of whipping her right there in the room. But he scooped up Lancelot's unconscious body and stepped towards the door instead. Yellow stiffened at his harsh glare, wondering if she should sleep with one eye open from now on.
"Follow," his order was blunt, "I'll also check if you're telling the truth after this, Amarillo."
x
Petrel knew to hurry just enough to not arouse suspicion.
Strangely, Archer wasn't lurking around Giovanni's office. Usually, that Executive jumped on the opportunity to handle Giovanni's personal issues if he wasn't already snooping around for an inkling of a problem.
Giovanni would not want Ariana to worry. All three men agreed Ariana should handle Silver in case anything drastic came up, even if Ariana wasn't aware of the decision.
Silver was the heir and most important light in Giovanni's life, something that the Rocket boss would take to the most extreme measure if he had to. Something that Petrel has known Giovanni to do when the time called for it.
Petrel pushed open Giovanni's office door as he listened for noises. After a few beats, he cautiously stepped onto the plush carpet to look for his boss.
"Giovanni? Boss?" the Executive asked, suspicious of the silence, "Everything alright?"
More silence. Petrel's breath was still. He glanced over the still ticking clocks before heading into the office area. Everything seemed normal. But Petrel received a distress signal. So where was Giovanni?
Tick. Tick. … The clocks stopped.
Petrel felt his heart race, but he didn't know from what. He barged into the rooms, hurried and unsure of what he would find.
In moments, the Executive saw Giovanni slumped in his favorite armchair in front of a large window. Dawn was breaking as the window glittered with beautiful trees and morning dew. Giovanni had dropped a leather book on the floor, creasing the ancient and sacred pages.
"Giovanni," Petrel called out as he shook him, knowing it could very well be a death sentence, "Boss, wake up. Wake up."
Maybe he should go get Archer. Archer knew this medical stuff, he could —
In moments, each of the clocks exploded into a puff of glass, wood, and metal contraptions. Petrel held his arms up to protect his face from the debris as glass dug into his uniform. The ground shook and quiver under the plush carpet.
Oh, fuck. Here it comes.
The office suddenly vibrated as furniture and books split apart, mimicking an earthquake. Petrel could do nothing except throw his body around Giovanni, hoping that he would not get impaled or fall through the ground. A loud buzzing echoed in Petrel's ears as something instantly rendered him deaf from the vibrations.
A wall collapsed as things fell from their perch. Gia, the Persian Pokemon, jumped from her bed and onto the floor as she swatted towards her master. Petrel felt the long claws sliced across his arm as the Pokemon struck him again.
"You —!" Petrel cawed, trying to make sense of it, "Not now!"
Gia hissed violently before shoving her head into Giovanni's lap. The bright ruby on her head glowed as she purred to soothe her master. The movement forced Petrel out from Giovanni's body as the Pokemon took full control.
In seconds, the sudden earthquake was silenced. Giovanni fell from his chair as the Persian slipped under his body to soften the fall. Gia laid him on his side as she curled up around him to protect him from any further damage.
Petrel could see Giovanni's breathing return to normal, but he was still out of it. Probably would be for the rest of the day — hopefully, not for the rest of the week. Or a year. That would look bad for Team Rocket if their leader was… incapacitated from something that not even the Executives could comprehend.
Giovanni always talked about that stuff. Hard enough to keep his odd ramblings about psychic forests and powers under wraps. Now this might get construed as unstable leadership — and ripe for the pickings if someone was ambitious enough.
Petrel blinked, unsure how to go forward. However, from the look on the Pokemon's face, he had to do something.
People were going to notice otherwise. Team Rocket, for all of its glory, could not become noticed in times like this.
x
There wasn't any talking as Archer escorted her back to her room. Yellow couldn't even tell where they were, frankly, and if she could have made it back on her own.
It felt like forever, but Yellow could see the familiar hallway that led to their bedrooms. She looked up at Archer anxiously, wondering if she should thank him, before Archer pointed down to her room.
"Go inside," he ordered, "And you will not speak of this to anyone. That is an Executive order. If you do, I will order Incubo to tear your mind to shreds. Do you understand, Amarillo?"
Yellow nodded. She had nobody except Lancelot to talk to about this, anyway. Archer turned, readjusting Lancelot in his arms, before he walked away. The child stepped towards him as she feared Lancelot's disappearance once again.
"Where is Lancelot going?" she asked, trembling.
"None of your concern. He is my student, not yours," Archer retorted. "Go to your room."
Business as usual. She just wasn't sure she could do that after all that had happened.
x
Proton couldn't go back to sleep after receiving Petrel's message.
Called off to Goldenrod. Handle the team on base while I'm gone. - P.
Finally! An opportunity to stretch his wings. Proton hurried to get ready, eager to lord his new power over the field agents. Of course, most of them were on his side already — supporting Proton's promotion to Executive if it would ever come — but it was still good to beat down the ones who weren't on his side yet.
The teenager threw on his hat as he pushed open the door, seeing the night shift still toiling away at their duties. A grin spread over his face as Proton dug up his natural charm. He had the golden ticket right in his pocket, so why wouldn't he be happy today?
"Guess what, everyone?"
x
Ariana didn't like to be thrown into doing jobs for her colleagues. Even if it was Archer begging her to handle the meeting with Giovanni this morning.
"Why should I? Didn't get enough beauty sleep last night?" Ariana questioned, seeing Archer's tired face. "Must I bail you out of everything?"
Archer's face didn't change. "Ariana. Please."
Her face turned to worry as his words sliced through her. Archer wasn't humoring her or indulging in their banter this time. In fact, he seemed entirely preoccupied outside of Team Rocket — something she recognized as a mother.
Ariana crossed her arms, pretending to keep everything light as she let Archer off the hook. "I must have been a saint in my previous life. Since everyone keeps begging me for help."
"Thank you," Archer said. "I received word that Petrel was called to Goldenrod, possibly to scout prospective gambling corners. I will return to my duties and help you as soon as I can."
She remembered she said the same thing when Silver had a terrible sickness a year ago and had to be admitted to the medical wing. Ariana reneged on that promise too, as Silver went into surgery right away and needed a week to recover. Archer never said a damn thing to complain either, simply taking on the extra work as he juggled his own priorities.
Ariana wouldn't complain either. It was fair that way if she didn't.
"I'll await your return," Ariana said, smiling as if to assure Archer, "After all, you'd fall apart without me."
Archer said nothing else and Ariana knew from personal experience he didn't have the energy to thank her again.
x
"Damn it," Sird grunted, attempting to stand upright as she fell over her desk, "Damn it. Damn it!"
Stars above, she was out of it. She could barely keep her mind intact as her crumpled body fell away into pain. It was a blessing that Sird was even alive — that the strike against her was excruciating and beyond any power she had ever seen before in her life.
Even Cyrus… Cyrus had no power like that. As much as Sird adored the man, he was ill-equipped for something… whatever… that was.
Her arms collapsed under her weight as Sird slumped back to the floor, making her legs give out. She looked like a complete mess now; heaven forbid that someone would see her in this state and mock her.
Perhaps Sird should run at the first opportunity. Abandon her plans in Rocket and return to Sinnoh. Say that it was impossible, that she found nothing, and it was all a waste. Facing Cyrus was the better option than facing that entity that destroyed her in a single swoop.
But the greed. The greed. Damn the greed and hunger! If Sird could get Giovanni… and that power… then she would never go hungry again. She would never need another child, another food source, another…
Even Cyrus could do everything he wanted with that endless fountain of power. They could live for eons in the void. Cyrus could be a god. He could be the only god. Forget the Pokemon when humans could have it all for themselves?
There truly was something out there in the world that was stronger and more vibrant than the simple tastes of the supernatural. Why, there was a goddess hiding amongst the trees and under the ground.
Sird needed to bring in Carr and Orm. Not that she would reward them, but they had a purpose now.
Her body fell to the ground again as she surrendered to the feeling. It was best to conserve her energy. Sird was going to need it for the new plans that formed. And whatever Team Rocket thought was inconsequential for what was waiting at the end.
Sleep. Sleep and eat. It was all Sird could do right now.
The children would now be the appetizer. Not the main course.
x
Yellow had no choice but to attend training. It was still business as usual and the usual called for her total submission to Team Rocket.
"C'mon, Amarillo, I will not do it for you," Luna called out as she watched Yellow tackle the gymnast bars, "You did it on trees, you can do it here."
"Can you stop bringing up the forest?" Yellow grumbled, swinging herself to the next set of bars, "I wasn't allowed to fall then.
"Stop muttering. Bad for your voice."
"... Yes, Luna…"
However, Yellow missed a bar and slipped, falling a few feet towards the padded floor. After a hard thunk, Yellow felt her mind haze over before she could recover from it. Luna stood over with her whistle, ready to blow it at a moment's notice.
"Well?" Luna snapped, "Get up."
Yellow angrily squinted at her trainer, scrambling up. Part of her wanted to lash out and say exactly what happened last night, but Archer's threat rang clear in her mind. Keeping secrets was hard enough now that she had two, but it was worse when it weighed her down.
The child rubbed her weak arms, still glaring as Luna took the whistle out.
"Go change," she ordered. "There's nothing more I can do with you today."
Good. Yellow didn't want to be useful today, anyway. She bowed before turning around, trudging back to the locker room. After finding her little locker, Yellow laid her head against the cool steel as she tried to think of what to do next.
All she wanted to do was sleep. And think.
"I've had days like that," a voice said behind her. "It will get better."
Was that…? Yellow turned around before seeing a familiar face. Lixue! She was back! She hadn't seen her in what felt like forever. Happiness sprang from her toes and up to her neck, forcing herself to not leap at her for a hug.
And right now, Yellow really needed a hug.
"Are you alright?" Lixue asked, cautious at Yellow's demeanor. "Everything okay?"
"I…" Yellow swallowed, nervous, "... Bad night."
"Ah," Lixue said, "Those are common around here. Let's go get cleaned up."
Yellow brightened up, following Lixue to the showers. Inside, several women were primping and preening as if it was a secret little club that only the select few knew about it. They were all conversing and speaking in excited, hushed tones as if they had gossip to spread.
When they saw Yellow, Lixue had to do a nod. It wasn't just any nod, but a nod of approval and acceptance.
And once Lixue nodded, Yellow was in.
x
The women intiated Yellow right away. In twenty minutes, Yellow had heard every scrap of news, gossip, and rumors from field operations to Archer's own secretarial team. There wasn't a single rock in all of Team Rocket that hadn't been overturned in their discussions.
"I heard Mona is sleeping with him and she's sleeping with two guys on Archer's team."
"Oh, she had to get an a little problem fixed —"
"No! I thought she looked like she gained weight! I swear, if she wasn't —"
"Cristoff barely had the inches to work with anyway, I mean, it's just —"
"Wendell has a big one —"
"How would you know that?!"
And, of course, the women were aware of Yellow's involvement in the discussion as well.
"I mean, he asked me to swallow, but I said — Yellow, don't repeat this, honey —"
"Men are stupid! They think because they have two heads — Yellow, earmuffs —"
"I wish they could — Yellow, you didn't hear this — suck themselves—"
For the first time, Yellow felt like she belonged somewhere. Even though she wasn't wearing the funny makeup, creams, or powders, she still mimicked the patting and rubbing motions on her face as the women continued to talk.
Only Lixue didn't involve herself in the energetic discussion, simply listening in the background. It appeared to Yellow that Lixue preferred to keep her lips sealed instead of joining in, something that the women respected.
Yellow eventually gathered that all these women were part of Ariana's team and specifically under Lixue's command. The way they carried themselves and enjoyed themselves spoke of close friendship and camaraderie, which was bizarre given who they worked for.
Maybe if Yellow made far enough, she could be officially part of that team. She could officially be part of the sisterhood.
However, when it was time to go, Yellow didn't want to leave. But the women were leaving one by one until all her little feet could do was follow them. Luckily, Lixue stayed behind to make sure that every women was accounted for and off to their jobs.
"Lixue," Yellow asked, watching the women troop out into the dark and open world of Team Rocket, "Are you all friends?"
That made Lixue laugh a little. "No. We're colleagues."
Untrue. The way they talked made them friends. Not just colleagues. But maybe it was safer to say they weren't friends to avoid being broken up. Yellow gazed once more into the world beyond the safety of the women's locker room.
"What are you then?" she asked again.
"We're the Furies," Lixue answered. "That's what the rest of Team Rocket calls us: the furies."
That was Yellow's new goal: to become a fury. To be part of something beyond a forest child, servant, and supposed future Executive. Until this moment, she didn't know it was what she craved and desired more than anything in the world.
But she had to make it that far.
x
When Lancelot woke up, Archer was folding a used towel next to his head. For the first time, it comforted that Lancelot saw his master before seeing anything in Team Rocket. He shuddered from the cool air, wondering if he had died.
"Master Archer?" Lancelot croaked out.
"Try not to move," Archer instructed, pressing his hand over the boy's forehead. "You've been asleep for sixteen hours."
Lancelot blinked. Wasn't he just in isolation? What happened? He couldn't remember what happened. He remembered blacking out. He remembered… a maze. He even remembered Yellow. But his mind was too far traumatized to do anything more than rest, so the boy put everything aside for now.
His eyes refocused, and Lancelot realized he was now in Archer's personal quarters.
It was simple and elegant, much like Archer himself. Books, scientific journals, and frightening medical contraptions were placed around the area along with some Team Rocket artifacts. The color scheme of muted grays, blues, and gold accents gave the impression of a calm and peaceful space.
Lancelot had not been here since he was a toddler and sleeping in a crib. He remembered Archer kept him in a study that had been temporarily converted into a living space. Curtains sealed off Lancelot's makeshift bedroom long ago, giving the illusion of walls and isolation to the small baby.
Once Lancelot left, Archer didn't wait a second to turn it back into a study. The Executive scrubbed off every inch of evidence that a baby lived there for little over three years. Didn't even keep any of Lancelot's baby stuff — not that the boy had much.
"Why am I not in the medical wing, Master Archer?" Lancelot questioned, wondering how serious it was that Archer refused to entertain the doctors. Usually, his master would at least pretend to care about the medical opinion of other so-called "quacks".
"My darling student, you really aim to bother me," Archer said. "May I have a few minutes of peace before you bombard me with such empty questions?"
Lancelot sighed, "Yes, Master Archer."
The Executive put away the towels before lifting his personal medical bag onto a nearby ottoman. In moments, Archer's signature stethoscope came out and Lancelot stiffened at the sight.
Archer was going to care for him. Far more stressful than sleeping in a medical wing full of quacks. Lancelot knew his master was skilled in medicine and had some suspicion that before Team Rocket, Archer, had been a medical practitioner. But for what Archer excelled in study, he lacked in empathy for his patients.
Not to mention a special sadism that existed in prodding and poking painful medical instruments into an unsuspecting victim, especially if it was a woman. Luckily, Lancelot got spared most of Archer's nature in this area, but it was unsettling.
Archer took some time to listen to his vitals before lowering the stethoscope. Lancelot waited, eyeing the bag as Archer pulled out a small tin box of needles and tiny glass vials. None of that looked fun in the least, and in Lancelot's experience, it often wasn't.
"I'm going to give you an immunization," Archer told him, "And a B-12 vitamin shot."
Lancelot could tell that whatever was in there, it wasn't an immunization or a B-12 shot. He already had all of his immunizations and he didn't have any medical reason for a B-12 shot. Plus, Archer also wasn't documenting these injections — meaning that this was not to be archived in Lancelot's medical record. And his master was the man who documented every sneeze and temperature spike.
Fear bubbled under the surface, making him wonder what Archer was really giving him. So the boy played dumb, as it was the safest way to gain some information. Even Archer got a little too chatty sometimes.
"Master Archer, am I due for another vaccine? And what's B-12?" Lancelot asked, keeping his question focused. "Am I sick?"
"It's a booster, dear student. And the B-12 is for your health," Archer evaded his question, prepping the syringe, "You had quite a medical event. I would not want my dear Lancelot to suffer like that again."
Lancelot eyed the tiny bottles again. They were unmarked. Archer must have removed the labels beforehand so the boy couldn't question his story. If his master will go that far, it could only mean one thing.
Anti-psychotics. Something was going on. If Archer didn't want the Rocket doctors to be aware of his actions, that meant it was necessary to keep it a secret. And if it was a secret to the doctors… could Archer also be keeping secrets from Giovanni? Perhaps to protect Lancelot?
Were there cracks in Archer's trust in Team Rocket? Or was it something far worse? Lancelot suddenly thought of his Pokemon manuals — specifically, the section where mothers eat their babies to protect them from interlopers.
Surely, Archer's mouth and belly were not large enough to swallow up Lancelot… right?
"Master Archer, should I eat before I get a shot?" Lancelot said, trying hard to weasel the answer out, "Won't it make me sick? I already feel light-headed, Master."
"You'll be fine," Archer brushed his statement off.
"Yes, b-but —"
"If you do not trust me, Lancelot, then speak to your concerns. Otherwise, I imagine my years of medical practice trumps yours," Archer interrupted him, "Roll up your sleeve."
Lancelot took one look and in his panic, he thought the needle was ten feet long and sixteen feet wide. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck as he anxiously rolled up his sleeve, trying to control his breathing. Surely Archer would not kill or maim him. He spent too much time and energy raising Lancelot…
It didn't take long for his master to sense the boy's discomfort. "Lancelot. If you cry, I will give you something real to cry about."
"I wasn't going to cry, Master Archer," Lancelot mumbled.
"Good," Archer said, sticking the needle in for the first shot. "You're too old to be sniveling over a shot. If I wanted to hurt you, I would be more direct with it."
That was true. Archer wasn't one for being coy about his torture or murderous methods. He actually enjoyed discussing the pain he would inflict on people. Lancelot slacked his muscles enough to allow Archer to administer the next shot. Whatever was really in the needle worked its magic throughout Lancelot's veins, and there was nothing he could do about it now.
One quick alcohol wipe and bandage later and it was done. The boy watched his master clean up the supplies and dispose of the needles.
"Master Archer, am I going back to…" Lancelot hesitated. "... isolation?"
"You served your punishment," Archer simply said.
Good to hear, but it left too many questions unanswered. What happened in that room? And how did Yellow get involved? Did Lancelot bring her there, or was it her own gifts? Who was trying to kill them? And was there… really a Mother Forest that responded to his calls?
Worse yet, what was Archer going to do if it rattled him like this?
"Are the Houndooms going to be okay?" Lancelot asked, remembering the fainted Pokemon, "Why did they —?"
"Don't concern yourself with my Pokemon. That is my business, not yours," Archer sharply reprimanded. "Recite your anatomy lessons if you need something to occupy yourself with."
Lancelot hummed, lowering his eyes to the ground. Taking a deep breath, he recalled the last thing they went over: the integumentary system (often known as the skin). Largest system in the human body and sometimes the most… well-sought after part of the human body.
"The epidermis is the stratified squamous epithelium. It has several layers with the outermost as flat-type cells…" Lancelot recited, "Outer layers have transparent cells…"
Archer seemed to be half-listening as the boy went on as if his own thoughts distracted the Executive. Lancelot, amid his little recitation, couldn't help but notice that Archer was also nervous.
Something really happened. And it shook his master. Lancelot wasn't sure if he liked this version of Archer or if he preferred the one who scolded him and controlled every move. But Lancelot finished one section of his lesson and went onto the next one without pause.
After several minutes, Archer exited the area to another part of his bedroom. Lancelot stopped to catch his breath, sighing as he looked around the area. Nothing else seemed amiss and if the universe was ending, Archer had accepted it rather easily.
"Lancelot," Archer's voice carried loudly, "I do not hear you reciting."
Right. "The first layer is composed of dead skin cells and to quickly start —"
"We do not split infinitives, Lancelot," Archer interrupted him. "Do it again. All over."
Lancelot groaned, knowing it was a long section. It wasn't fair; he had heard Archer split an infinitive before. Why couldn't he? He restarted his recitation as Archer re-entered with a tea tray and some empty teacups.
Strong smell. Archer made tea, and he graciously included Lancelot this time. The man must be out of his mind or completely stressed out to include his student in a strict ritual such as tea time.
The boy drank in the sight before Archer scolded him once again.
"You're ten years old, Lancelot. Act like it instead of making silly faces at me," Archer remarked as he sat down with the tea tray in front of his student. "Far too old to be so childish."
Now Lancelot was stunned as if new information landed right on his head and knocked out his brain. Before Archer could come in with another scalding remark, Lancelot's eyes brightened up as if someone handed him the keys to the kingdom.
"I'm ten now?" Lancelot inquired with excitement, "Am I really ten, Master Archer?"
"What?" Archer asked, baffled.
"You… always say I should act like I'm nine… and now you said ten… so I'm ten now, Master Archer?" Lancelot treaded carefully, seeing Archer's stony gaze blaze through him, "Am I really, truly, and absolutely ten years old now?"
The Executive sighed, "You are a willful child. Yes, you are. Hopefully, you have not taken ten years off my life in order to accomplish this feat. Why is this number so important to you?"
Lancelot forgot his pain for a second, sitting up to better speak to his master, "So I'm eligible for a Pokemon!"
"I did not say that," Archer returned, now surprised. "When did I say that?"
"You said ten-year-old children get Pokemon, Master Archer. You even said Young Master Silver will get one when he is ten! I am older than Young Master Silver!" Lancelot leaped at the Executive's prior words, "By three months!"
Archer rubbed the space between his eyebrows. "I did not say you would receive one. I said the law allows a ten-year-old to receive a trainer's license which I disagree with. A ten-year-old boy is not mature enough for a Pokemon and I have it on good authority you are not mature."
Lancelot frowned, "But if the law says I can…"
"Ah, yes, because Team Rocket has always cared so deeply for following institutions and their laws," Archer said, "How could I live with myself if I don't let a disobedient ten-year-old get what he wants so he can get eaten by a beast four months from now?"
It was clear where Lancelot picked up the sarcasm and dark humor from. The boy pressed on, however, even as his master continued to dig his heels into the decision. A dance of questions and flippant answers traded back and forth as Archer prepared the tea for the both of them.
"What if I steal one?" Lancelot suggested.
"Then you'll be the first Rocket to give it right back," Archer denied.
"What if I catch one?"
"Show me where we have an abundance of wild Pokemon on base and I'll fetch for an exterminator right away."
Lancelot sighed before catching the sight of Incubo in his little crate. The pup was exhausted, and it looked like the Pokemon had been up all night. However, Incubo was patiently awaiting his next order and refused to give into sleep as Archer might need him.
"What if I train one of your Houndours, Master Archer?" Lancelot asked, watching the puppy perk his ears up. Incubo twisted his head around towards Archer as if they had handed him down a death sentence.
"Why don't I just raise the damn thing for you then, since I would have to do all the work?" Archer countered, finishing up with the teapot, "Lancelot, I won't repeat my decision again. Ten or ten and a half, you are not getting a Pokemon. You are a child who just attempted to escape not even two days ago."
Lancelot squinted as his frown deepened. There was no use. Archer was steadfast and no amount of discussion was going to change his mind, unless Giovanni intervened. And since Giovanni often took Archer's side in discussions about Lancelot, there was no hope.
He doubted that even if he was so perfect and had not escaped, Archer would not let him have a Pokemon, anyway. Archer liked to keep Lancelot's interactions with Pokemon to a minimum and often steered him away from speaking them.
"I said I was sorry, Master Archer," Lancelot mumbled, defeated.
"As much as I would like to believe that," Archer remarked, carefully pouring tea into one cup, "I have a hard time doing so, Lancelot. This is the third attempt in two years. Your last one was only six months ago."
Right. The vents were used last time as well, and Lancelot got a lot further. He tricked Enma by tying his sock to a random pole and crawling through the vents. However, Fulor could sniff out his trail faster than Lancelot thought they would and found him easily in the south vent. That stupid dog crawled in after him and dragged him out by the leg.
That time, Lancelot had planned his escape for weeks before acting on it. Archer knew he was gone when he checked the cameras and raised the alarm. Truthfully, Lancelot knew he would — simply nothing got past Archer — but he just wished the man would humor him by letting him have a head start.
But that time, Lancelot felt it. He felt the cold air that came from the outside. The cold, unfiltered air that blew in through the night. It was amazing how it caressed across his face like a sweet touch from a parent.
There were so many things Lancelot had never felt or seen before. The true night sky with twinkling stars, a sunrise, or even other people. Mountains, rivers, snow, rain… all of it. Lancelot would brave all of it to get away from Team Rocket.
… Or so he thought. Archer put his mind right once again after the escape attempt. Lancelot understood he belonged in Team Rocket. That he was a child and he didn't understand how things worked. He was destined for greatness here, not out in the world where he would be all… alone.
"I know," Lancelot nodded his head. "I know, Master Archer. I am sorry."
Archer pressed a teacup in Lancelot's hands. "Drink this, boy. Give your ceaseless negotiation a rest. As much as I would like you to attend to your routine, I suppose you can take today to think about what you've done."
A charitable act by Executive Archer. It must have been a special day indeed. Lancelot took the drink and inhaled the scent. Smelled like lavender and rose with some… chocolate?
Lancelot tipped it over and sipped it, suddenly happy at the taste. This was the most delicious thing he ever had! Why, it was sweet but not sugary! And bursting with flavor! And Archer had this in his personal quarters this whole time?
"This is good, Master!" Lancelot gleefully said, gulping it down. "What is it?"
"Do pace yourself, I'm not giving you the entire pot," Archer warned him. "It's just an old tea blend from Johto. I have little left and I wish to get rid of it. I thought you'd like it."
"Where is it from?"
"Blackthorn."
"The dragon city?"
Archer's hand appeared to clench around the handle of the teapot as he poured himself a cup. "Yes. That dragon cult is there. I suppose their name came up in your geography studies."
Lancelot wondered what a city of dragons looked like. Were there just dragons lazing about everywhere, even in buildings and sidewalks? Not that Lancelot had any idea what a city should look like, but still! A city dedicated to dragons and dragon-like!
His master read Lancelot's face easily. "It is not what you think. They are a primitive city full of xenophobic cavemen. Do not even have modern day plumbing. They would be more likely to kill you before you could step foot in that dreadful place."
"How do you know, Master Archer?" Lancelot asked, watching Archer take a sip from his own teacup.
"I had the unfortunate luck to be there once, Lancelot. Miserable time. Idiots thought I was a warlock bent on stealing their souls. The leaders do not allow outsiders into their cult and they sacrifice children — much like you — to their dragon spirits," Archer said. "No reason or rationale. They just like to wallow in blood and violence. Much like their stupid dragon gods and religion."
Lancelot's eyes widened. "They sacrifice children, Master Archer?"
"Of course they do. What do you think dragons eat?" Archer laid into his words. "Dragons are terribly troublesome creatures. Arrogant, proud, and not worth the trouble of training them. Practically feral. The fact they smell pungent and destroy entire cities simply adds to it. You are very lucky to not have to deal with it and that Team Rocket's Pokemon are better behaved."
If Archer said it, it must be true. Still. Lancelot liked the idea of a dragon. Ever since he learned of them through his Pokemon training and countless manuals, he had dreamed of powerful dragons in his possession. Gyarados, Charizard… even a Dragonite!
Lancelot would have them all. Why, he would be content with only a team of Dragonites. To him, dragons weren't smelly or bloodthirsty. They were… special. Even the dreaded Gyarados, where legends spoke of leveling cities with a simple Dragon Twister move.
He remembered the one time Archer read him a bedtime story when he was still sleeping in this personal bedroom. Lancelot was two and would not stop crying, even with all the threats and punishments that Archer could think of. The boy couldn't remember what was bothering him, but his master gave in and calmed him down with a story.
"Many years ago, there was a princess who was trapped in a tower," Archer started, his voice monotone and tired, "And terrible dragons surrounded her. They said she was the most beautiful woman in the world."
"Mmm… pren-ciss?"
"Princess. Pronounce your words. Yes. A princess. She was probably the same level as any other one, but they said she was. Hush. Now, the dragons kept her locked away. She wasn't allowed to go outside. Knights—"
"Ni-ght night!"
"No. Knight. A man who saves princesses. Be quiet, I am exhausted, Lancelot. Disobedient boy. Keep your eyes closed. Knights far and wide tried to rescue her but couldn't. The dragons cut them down before they could step a foot inside her tower. However, one knight was clever."
"M-master, cl-eaver?"
"Yes. The knight figured out… he could pretend to be something else than a knight. And he could slip in the walls to talk to her. So he did. And to no surprise, the princess was stupid and spoiled. She wasn't a prisoner at all. She was just selfish."
"Mm…"
"And… the knight knew that. He did. But she was just as clever as he was. And she tricked him. She wanted to leave, and she knew he could help her. So she got him twisted around her finger and told him she loved him. Which was a lie. And he rescued her."
"Dragon?"
"The dragons weren't happy, no. They hunted him down. But by then, it was too late, and the princess had a baby with the knight. A baby boy. But the dragons didn't know that. Nobody did except the knight."
"Where baby?"
"Baby grew up to be a disobedient, very talkative boy like you. Hush."
And then Lancelot couldn't remember the rest. He probably fell asleep before the end. But Archer never brought up that story again. In fact, Lancelot figured he probably didn't even remember telling it because he was so sleep deprived.
"Are you ever going to go back?" Lancelot suddenly asked, curious, "To Blackthorn, Master?"
"I'd sooner cut my throat out," Archer answered, "I imagine they would feel the same way if they saw me. Besides, they shut out all outsiders now. If you don't have a single drop of Blackthorn blood, you will not be allowed in. They built the Gym outside the walls and they have secret entrances to prevent even the most determined spy from going through. Which is fine — Team Rocket has no business out there. And you have no reason to be there."
End of that discussion. Lancelot stared down at his empty teacup, suddenly wistful. But it seemed Archer no longer wanted to be chatty to his student. The Executive placed his drink down as he placed a folded square sheet of paper on the table.
"However, since you are ten years old, there is something we have to discuss…"
Lancelot picked up the sheet, unfolding it. It looked like a medical pamphlet about… puberty? Specifically, how biological boys go through puberty. He looked up after skimming the front, wide-eyed at the implication.
"... Master Archer, you already told me how… people make babies," Lancelot reminded him carefully, confused.
"Yes, but we didn't go into how it affects you," Archer said, unfazed, "And since you cannot seem to leave Elite Captain Lixue out of your thoughts, it is best we discuss it now."
Lancelot's face dropped. He should have gone straight back to his routine.