Chapter XI

Entry #52:

I have already met so many folk from Hoenn. I have already seen so many villages and towns.

I was not prepared for Rustboro.

I was not prepared for… all the rocks.

And I certainly was not prepared for Roxanne.

Rustboro was a cavern of stone.

In the night, it was so dark that the blackness around August seemed as fluid as liquid. Her fingers, her hand, her feet – all of it was swallowed by the inkiness of it all. She tried to focus on the smell of damp stone, tried to focus on the sound of all her Pokémon's footsteps padding beside her.

The only light she caught sight of were the lanterns dangling from the walls, each one sending a brown flicker across the rows and rows of villagers. They huddled in small clumps, smoke rising from the strangling puffs of fire between them, shrouding the cavern in a thick, grey mist.

There were no houses. No gardens. No dappled shade from trees or rippling lakes.

It was just a cavern.

Small green ferns grew threw the sand at her boots. August stared at the people around her.

Most were sleeping, huddled together, surrounded by stone. There were no pillows or blankets – just a few fabric of cloth and their own body warmth.

How could they survive like this? Were they happy?

August didn't know when or where to stop. The people seemed to be clumped in families – parents clinging onto their kids, a young couple brushing their legs together, young teenagers glaring up at August as her boots left a slight echo through their cavern.

Was she trespassing? She was technically in their sleeping chambers. Still, no one stopped her as she found a corner and lowered herself there. Surrounded by her Mudkip, Zigzagoon, Poochyena, Silcoon, Wingull and Shroomish. Her own family, she supposed.

She only had to be here for a few days, at most. Maybe even one day. All she had to do was find the Rustboro Diplomat. Steal their portion of the map. Or gently convince them to give it to her.

Whichever worked. As long as she didn't get herself and Uncle Norman busted.

What she had not accounted for was Brandon strolling into the cavern, eyes darting around. They landed on her. Froze.

August said nothing. She didn't even blink. She just stared at him as he glared at her, the silent fury burning in the air between them. His biting words echoing in her ears.

I was just starting to think you weren't such a freak, too.

Seconds passed. A whole minute.

And August realised, with her eyes starting to burn, that she needed to blink.

"Are you going to say something to me?" she whispered. "Or will you just walk away and leave me be?"

Brandon blinked as well. His own eyes were screened slightly red as he knelt down. "What are you doing here? In Rustboro?"

"I don't recall how this is any of your business."

"You spent so long moping like a babe about wanting to go back to Sinnoh. What happened?"

"I wanted an adventure."

Brandon took a sharp breath. He glanced at the sleeping people around him before hissing, "Hoenn is not a place you want to adventure, August. I don't know what stories you've heard but—"

It was the footsteps that halted them both.

There was something commanding about them. Something so confident and crisp that both August and Brandon found themselves glancing up.

She must have been around the same age as August, and yet, there was something in her dark maroon eyes that seemed to be crinkled with ancient wisdom. Or exhaustion. Or even…

August stared at the girl as she strode into the cavern, as people who were awake lifted their chins and bowed before her. The girl made the smallest of acknowledges—a curt nod of her head—and moved on, passing by family after family, a deadness in her eyes.

Yes. August recognised that look completely.

Despair.

It was in the girl's pale face, in her hair that had been tied far too tightly on either side of her hair with old, wrinkled red ribbons. It was in her ripped pink stockings and her scarf that had been looped around her neck too few times. It was in her white blouse that hadn't been properly buttoned up and her petticoat, which stuck out from beneath her dark skirts.

And it was in her wrist, where her fragment of the map to the Sea Temple had been wrapped far too carelessly.

August still felt Brandon's breath close to her cheek as she did the calculations in her head.

This was it—the Diplomat of Rustboro. She had the map. Wrapped around her wrist, like a sloppy bangle.

Did she wear it while she slept? Did she keep it tied to her wrist while she ate?

Did she shower with it?

"What are you thinking?" Brandon asked her, very slowly.

August said nothing. Brandon knew nothing of the map—and she intended to keep it that way. For Uncle Norman. For Steven Stone.

"I am just wondering when you will leave me be," August said sharply.

She saw the rage and hurt in his face. But she dismissed it as he lurched onto his feet and stalked away.

And, by Arceus, it was a relief.

She couldn't imagine how he would respond to her actual answer.

I'm going to follow the Diplomat of Rustboro to the shower.

As it turned out, the Rustboro Diplomat had a name: Roxanne.

And Roxanne didn't have a shower.

August felt only slightly odd as she knelt behind graphite rocks, peering over it to see Roxanne bathing in a stream by the Rustboro Caverns. Perhaps it was all the gravel from the rocks, or perhaps it was something else altogether, but the water didn't even look clean—the river carried more earth than water, ripping through the stones like brown slosh.

And yet, there was Roxanne. Not a single piece of cloth on her body, dunking her whole head into the stirring water.

August had spent the entire day following her. Once her villagers had awoken, Roxanne spent the morning with all the young children—teaching them how to hunt and fish and defend themselves. Then, after they gathered for a quiet meal, she was teaching again. This time, she read the children folktales and lore, listened to the chanting of old rhymes.

Then, as everyone gathered for the final meal of the evening, Roxanne had stalked off to bathe.

In a river.

A dirty river.

August shuddered.

She missed the warm tub in Canalave. She missed the maids who would tend to her hair and scrub her skin.

The worst part?

Roxanne had removed the map from her wrist, but it was guarded by two Pokémon that were made of stone. One August recognised—a Geodude. The other? She had never seen a Pokémon with such a bright, sharp red nose before.

"You know," a voice called out, "I am not sure if I am flattered or alarmed by your behaviour, lass."

August froze.

That was Roxanne's voice.

She raised her gaze slightly, peering over the stone. There was no one else in the river—no one else within earshot. Who was Roxanne even talking to? What if they saw her? Would they reveal her spying to Roxanne? What if—

"I'm talking to you, lass," Roxanne said again. "The lass behind the rocks. Watching me bathe."

August felt herself flush. She had the sense to stand, brushing any gravel from her britches, keeping her gaze to the ground.

"I apologise," August said. "I…"

She trailed off.

She wasn't that good at lying yet. What could she possibly say?

Oh, aye, I just wanted to see how you kept your hair so… straight?

Roxanne simply stared at her, that same blankness in her eyes. Her body, bless Arceus, remained submerged in the water. It was just a pouted mouth and squinted eyes scrutinising her.

"What happened to your arm?"

August shrugged. "Sharpedo bit it off."

Even Roxanne's voice was flat as she said, "They can be quite nasty. I am guessing it was one of the Sharpedos that the Aqua Pirates have seized?"

"I…I'm not sure."

"Very well, then." Roxanne turned, a splash rolling between her words. "If you know nothing of the Aqua Pirates, then you cannot help me. I am getting out now. Enjoy the view."

August felt herself scream internally.

She did not need there to be stories of her staring at Diplomat Roxanne naked.

"Wait!" August cried out. "I did see Aqua Pirates. Just a few days ago. I got some information from them."

That kept Roxanne in the water. The Diplomat narrowed her eyes. "About what?"

August's mind reeled.

She didn't really get information from the Aqua Pirates. She just knew they were pests. And that they wanted her Shroomish.

Still, she nodded as enthusiastically as she could.

"They were looking for powerful Pokémon," August explained. "They were even ready to kill people, just to get them."

It technically was not a lie. August just hoped it was enough.

Roxanne nodded thoughtfully. "I thought so. There were rumours but…" She glanced sharpy at August, adding, "Did the pirate you met mention anything about a man named Steven Stone?"

August felt her heart stop.

"You… You know Steven?"

Rozanne gave her a wry smile. "I know a few Stevens, actually. But the one I am talking about—"

"Silver hair? Blue eyes?"

"Aye."

"I know him," August breathed out. "He—"

He what? Was he ever her lover? Was he still even her friend, after all this time?

What was he?

Where was he?

"I met him a few months ago," Roxanne said. For the first time, August heard warmth in the girl's voice. "He kept me company here in my court for a few weeks."

August felt questions swimming in her head.

Did he tell you about me?

Is he alright?

Is he alive?

But August pushed it all aside. Instead, she asked, "Is there a particular reason he is of interest to you, Diplomat Roxanne?"

"A few reasons. He wanted my map, for one. He was ridiculous enough to think he could find the Sea Temple."

August gave her a weak, watery smile. "Odd fellow, certainly."

"Indeed. He also happened to be my lover."

That made August choke. Nausea swept in, her head pounding, her heart screaming.

"Are you quite alright?" Roxanne's voice called over. "You look ill."

August couldn't breathe, let alone speak.

Steven Stone was here.

Steven Stone had wanted that map to the Sea Temple.

Steven Stone had found love with another woman.

"Lass?"

August had to fight the tears in her eyes.

They were stupid tears. She was stupid. She had not seen Steven in months and months. How could she expect him to stay silently loyal to her? Was there ever even anything between them, anyways?

"Apologies," August quickly mumbled. "It has been a long few week or two. I have not had a home to rest in."

The flatness in Roxanne's eyes faded. Instead, there was real warmth—real concern and kindness.

"Come with me," the Diplomat said. "To my court. We will take care of you. I am so very interested to learn about your knowledge of Steven Stone."

That evening, as Roxanne draped warm blankets around her and offered cups of tea, August simply smiled and nodded.

And once Roxanne was asleep, August found the Steven's diary. Flicked through every damned page until she found it.

Entry #54.