A powerful gale barrages Braviary, threatening to pluck every last feather from his body, and rip the boy from his wing. It is so vicious that it consumes everything, his sight, his hearing, eventually he can no longer tell if he still holds the boy. They were falling for a few seconds but it feels like an eternity. And eventually, what was taken from them is returned, seconds before he hits the ground like a sack of stones.

Braviary's back takes the most of it. Prinn flies out of his wing, bouncing away from him like a fluffy blue ball. Braviary gasps for air, then…

Nothing.

Pain doesn't erupt from his old bones; he can still move his legs, he's breathing, and when he opens his eyes he sees a pristine night sky. He's somehow unharmed, even though a fall like this should have ordinarily turned him into paste. How could a mere gust of wind break their fall like that?

He is not stressed out. It's like he has done this a hundred times before, in places just as twisted as these dungeons. The method of this place's madness feels familiar. Deeper is the only way through it. An experienced adventurer like him shouldn't be surprised by this, after all, he knew he'd be fine. He would not have thrown himself down a mysterious chasm if he hadn't known. He accepts what has happened.

He shuffles away from the Braviary-sized spot in the leaves, then sits upright, his back against a fallen log. They are on the road it seems. Their path went through a dungeon-shaped tunnel and they'd just come out the other end. The trees were full of yellow leaves, the air was cold, but bearable. He glances at Prinn who looks to have recovered. The boy's snuggled up near a bush just as he's up against a log. Prinn is shaken, but quick to adjust.

A terrible thought sticks with him. That stench, the smell of the cruel sea. An unforgiving place; a monument to how tiny he was. Did the feral fear it as well? Did it lose itself to an ocean? He withheld his tongue for Prinn's sake, but there's no telling he'll ever find his answer.

Another gale cuts through the air. Leaves scatter like dust as a smeargle appears on the earth next to them. Leon, completely out of breath, stews on the ground. He too finds his own place to lie on his side, rolling over to someplace between the two birds. The forest breezes over all of them, a lack of frost in the air tells them everything is fine. They're all out of the dungeon now, they can all stay calm.

Their break didn't last five minutes. Braviary and Leon look right at eachother.

One hid his combat potential while the other lied completely about his experience as an explorer. Neither of these are a good look. As tensions begin to ignite, a thousand words race through his head. He glances between them, his breath quickening. What does he say, what will get them to listen to him?

They barely seem to notice as Prinn begins to stand. His beak moves, then.

"So, what was the stunt about?"

Braviary beats Leon to the punch. At least he didn't throw one, but who knows? Someone just might.

"You want to talk about stunts?" Leon spits, "Let's talk about your jump back there, it was pretty good! I'd give you a medal to go with your stupid badge if you didn't muck everything up!"

"First things first, my badge isn't stupid. Unlike you, I've earned this thing, which means I've got proof to show for myself!." Braviary stands up, dwarfing the Smeargle. "So I would appreciate it if you didn't depreciate my accomplishments because of one harmless mistake!"

"Harmless mistake? You're joking, right?"

Leon, who's hardly the bird's size, points his tail straight into the man's face. It nearly grazes the Braviary's beak in lime-green paint.

"If you stood there like an idiot for a second longer the boy would be out cold - or worse." Leon points around them. "What'd we do then, flee to a corner of the dungeon and hope somebody comes to rescue us?"

Braviary's breath is heavy. A terrible sensation suddenly chokes him, and the words refuse to leave his mouth.

"There's talk in the guild; rumours of you either being a criminal, or a ploy by another group. They have their reasons to think these things, and if you're going to be cracking under pressure all the while touting you're an experienced adventurer, then they're gonna start asking more questions, Braviary."

"When there's trouble in a guild they can either waste their time working on it, or cut out the source. That source will be you."

Leon relaxes his shoulders, stays his anger, and lets his point be heard clear.

"Don't let this happen in a dungeon again. You cut it out where and when it matters, and I never bring this to the guildmaster as long as you don't let this happen a second time."

"Or?" Braviary mumbles.

"Or you tell me everything, where you're from, why you froze up, and what your name is."

Those words threw his back to the wall. There's no other option, if Braviary wants to stay in the good graces of this Smeargle, then he spits it out. And no half-baked excuse or wave of his wing will suffice, nothing other than a full explanation will satisfy him. His options are clear: have the trust of one of two battle-ready pokemon in their troop and the guild he represents, or forsake it all for nothing.

Leon has not moved. His gaze is a dagger against his throat, demanding his compliance. Braviary stares at him like a creature trapped in a beast's jaws.

The Smeargle a strong, loyal sort, Braviary knows this about him. He will not let Braviary trample on Prinn's future, he will cut this trouble at its roots before word even reaches his guild. He's a statue, unable to be toppled by the likes of Braviary. Leon's look says it: cooperate with me from now on, or we all lose.

Lose to what?

"Alright, alright. I'll…"

"Tell me everything, right?" Leon steals the words from his mouth. "I don't think we're in danger right now, so give me the basics, and tell me the rest while we're headed to Calico."

Where does he possibly start? His childhood, his time in the guild, where he's from? Everything's full of holes. Like his memories had leaked out a regrets and "once-were"s.

"Do I need to tell you now?"

"To keep you from backing down on your word? Yes, you have to." He stretches his tail, like wringing out a towel. Leon is easing up. "We aren't going until then."

Prinn is in agreement. His stance is with Leon, which he affirms with a tired "uh-huh" as he slops back down on the floor, and opens his map. He draws lines over the charcoal mountains with his flippers so he could appear busy; keep his mind from the fact he almost saw his partners duke it out.

Braviary's feathers bristle. He expands like a ball of stress, ready to explode with indignation and confusion. Speak, his mind tells him, say the first thing about yourself.

"I don't know my name."

Leon blinks.

"Umn, can you repeat that?"

The air escapes Braviary. All of his frustration leaves him with a feeble sigh.

"I have not the slightest idea what my name is, no initials on my badge, nothing to even give me a clue. Going by Braviary is easier than explaining myself."

From the corner of his eye he can see Prinn on the ground, looking up at him in astonishment. It's like he knew all along, possibly from the moment he had found the bird passed out on Black Shore.

"I had you pinned as being weird and disoriented. This takes it to a whole new level." If Leon had a notepad, he would be writing this down. "Do you remember anything at all?"

"No…" Braviary scours through his mind. "But these dispositions of mine don't come out of nowhere. I'm missing a key memory or two, or dozens maybe."

"It's as though there's a wall in my head, dark like this forest. When I listen well enough I can hear voices behind it, muffled. Tthe way they say these things to me about me is all I can make out. I get the feeling I've been an adventurer for a heck of a long time - enough to become bitter. Then something happened to make me this way: something happened to my wing."

How does an old, amnesiac flying type end up in a place he doesn't know? Does he fly across the vast ocean until he finally sees land, or was he guided here by the waves? Braviary is right to assume his wing is connected to his current being.

With no idea how he ended up a flightless idiot, he is growing up attached to the thought someone, somewhere did this to him. Maybe they did not like the way he ran his mouth, maybe their negligence did this to him, but making it Someone rather than Something gave him the goal his mind needed. Find who did this - give them payback - move on with his life. He could tie everything with a nice bow, knowing it wasn't a mere accident, but the work of a foe who had it out for his life. It's easier to think he may actually matter.

Leon moves towards him, this time to shake hold the bird's wing.

"Get yourself checked out."

He backs away, leaving behind a fistfull of coins in Braviary's grasp. Enough for two nights in a tavern, two meals, and possibly some dungeon equipment. Leon doesn't care where Braviary spends this, only that some goes where it is needed most. Leon believes him.

"There are psychic pokemon in Calico who could lend you their services." He reaches back to his bag, as though he just now remembered it. "Let's get away from here and not tell everyone you've got something terribly wrong with you."

The coin slides into a small pocket cut beneath his poncho. He hears a soft clink - the wine from Pysduck is still on him. A little treat for after he's let this psychic dig through his memories. Prinn, who had been listening this entire time, seemed to have heard the bottle. The boy's beak remains shut for now.

"Lead the way, Leon."

Comparatively speaking, Calico was a much larger town than its neighbour, on the larger picture there were much more expansive places beyond the pond. Out of everywhere in the Dusk Continent, none hold a candle to the trade capital.

Calico holds similar roots to Scoria Town. While technically a Guild Town, Calico has since surpassed the label of being a nowhere place on a nowhere landmass. Scoria's view of the Dusk Continent's signature shores is exquisite, truly one of a kind, but the placement of the town is abhorrent. Too high up to have a dock or ferry pokemon to make use of it; too far from its neighbour for the trade families to look at it as anything more than a stop on the long roads. Really the only thing Scoria has to offer is their Guild, which itself is a walk through the forest away. To their credit, the Scholar's Guild has carved a niche for themselves, but an interesting gimmick is not enough to grow their influence into something more. This is why Scoria is a Guild Town, why Calico is not.

Calico Town exists on a prairie, separated from the Obsidian Peninsula and thus Scoria Town by Basalt Peak and the swathes of forest surrounding the coast there. One might say its middling view of Dusk's signature shores is a downside for would-be explorers wanting to see the continent's splendour, but one of these towns has a dock for ferrying pokemon and the other does not.

A river begins at the base of this town. Docks and tiny boats sit along the shore, looking like teeth gnawing at the unconquerable ocean. The river flows through the cobble streets and lavishly stone houses, then out into the Dusk Continent's forests, giving life to a number of tiny settlements and mysterious hobbles. A community of insular Psychic pokemon, caverns plentiful in treasures and orbs, a huge rock face said to be a deity's perch - these are just a few of the curiosities found out there. At the very end of the stream rests Lapis Town. Which is its own other ordeal, united in a bond with local fringe (Tiny communities in the wilds like the aforementioned psychics, including settlements within the mouths of Dungeons, only ever marked on local maps) in pursuit of mystery.

As is the nature of a land where dopes like them could wander into dungeons just by going the wrong way, there is always a need for a guild. The Scholar's lean in their particular direction, Sundown Guild opts to focus on the side of general guild things: TRescuing people from the depths of dungeons, leading guests into dangerous places, catching criminals - the stuff the Scholars usually don't do.

According to Prinn, there is an unspoken rule not to step on eachother's feet, therefore it's an absolute necessity these two bodies keep in communication through a service of their choice. It's through Murkrow, usually. But if there was bad blood before or currently, neither the amnesiac or the child currently explaining Calico to him would know.

The way to Calcio is shorter than expected. The bitter aftertaste of their shouting match was still on their tongue, but Braviary's stuttering and explaining has more than buried Braviary's temporary beef. The endless spew of information has been leading to one obvious question:

"You from Calico, Prinn?" Braviary speaks, crunching into a spicy berry.

"No, what makes you think that?"

"I ask you what the town's like and you talk like you've been there your entire life. What's so special about this place?"

The boy puts a flipper to his chin. Those gears inside his head are slowly moving, thinking of a fact to say which he hasn't spat already. He looks to the sky for an answer, and his beak moves of its own volition.

"There's...a lot of traders."

"And?"

"And that's why it's special, Braviary." Leon speaks. "Is there really more to say? If they had a storied history, Prinn and I would know."

"Have no mysterious events happened, a huge catastrophic scenario, some hauntings?"

"No, I don't think so." He steers it around, right back to Braviary. "Why are you asking this? Are you worried?"

Now, it's Braviary's turn to stare up at the clouds, to come up with a reason why he even said such a question. Maybe exploring the dungeon has gotten him thinking existentially? Maybe this was once all routine to a previous him.

He looks ahead. The road is flanked by towering trees, forests which go on for ages, both up and down the mountain this road has taken them around. Beyond this road there's an opening between the trees, behind this - safety. They've all been keeping their eyes peeled for odd shadows, cold winds, shapes in the trees, but there had been no sign of another one of these dungeons.

"No." Braviary shakes his head. "Why would I be? Ain't there a guild there, shouldn't we be safe in Calico town?"

Good save, he thinks, always ask about the Guilds. Prinn will go on forever.

"Technically yes, it depends on if they have their hands full or not." He motions at the bird's badge. "Since we're clearly part of another guild, and not affiliated with them, they're under no obligation to protect us unless it's for a reason. Usually, it's to keep another guild off of their backs."

"Why not? They should if they're at all worried about making pals."

Leon goes to fetch a berry from the bag, but comes empty handed. Colour momentarily drains from his face.

"Because, as guild members we're expected to know how to handle ourselves. Like the boy said way back, guilds each have their area of speciality, but we're all assumed to be more competent in dangerous situations than the average fellow. This includes us." He accentuates us. "If we were to become stranded in a dungeon for any reason, it would be our Guildmaster's fault for giving us a job we couldn't possibly handle. It reflects badly on everyone if another Guild has to rescue our own."

"So…" The boy clears his throat. "Um, if we were to become lost around these parts for whatever reason, or we get roughed up by some bad people - you know the types of folks who would steal directly from a guild. They'd help us, right?"

"If they see it happening, they'll help." Leon went easy on him. "Don't rely on it, though, nobody's gonna beat us in the middle of town unless we say something especially stupid."

"Oh…" Prinn blinks, a spark goes off in his eyes. "Hey, I think I noticed something earlier…"

Prinn goes for his carrying tube, fishing out the brown-ish, green-capped bottle. The leppa berries inside the syrup rattle against the glass walls, making a soft clink sound as he shoves it in their faces. He points at it, he's so proud.

"This was the only thing we could find there, the only adventuring gear, and it came from Garl - the golduck in town. He's buddies with the scholars, so handing these out makes sense, but there isn't a person in town who was selling the stuff a guild needs. No reviver seeds, no orbs, nothing other than food."

Leon nods slowly.

"Is there a reason for that? I'm sure you can correct me Leon, since you know about these trade-things. But if I were a trader going to set up in a Guild Town - doesn't it make sense for me to bring some gear?" He wanders to Leon, and nearly smushes the bottle against his nose. "What's the deal, Leon?"

Leon handles the bottle as if it were an infant, carefully taking it into his arms, ogling at its contents, then returns it to its bearer. He already knows the answer.

"The Deal is that there is no deal."

"Oh shut up, Leon." Braviary spits. "Answer the boy."

"It's the truth, and a joke." They hear him hide a snicker. "I have my guesses. I don't feel comfortable talking about rumours. Guildmaster would know for sure. We don't need to rely on traders to get our gear, and there's some stuff stocked away. But the lack of supplies in Scoria Town can't be a coincidence.

Leon waves at Braviary. "Did you try asking around, did they refuse to sell to you?"

"No, I didn't ask." Prinn sighs. "But we did wander through the market on our way to see Psyduck, and I got a good glimpse at all the stalls. Nobody seemed to be selling any gear, like I said."

"Huh…"

Leon waits for the boy to go on, but here' is where the confusing story ends. This can't be a mere oddity. Something eludes everyone here. Perhaps...

"There have to be caravaneers in town. We can ask them about the lack of equipment sent to Scoria Town. The merchants all know who I am, and Braviary has a badge." Leon looks at the boy. "If someone's to look in that, it's not going to be me."

"I'm not giving up my badge." Braviary says. "So it leaves you, kid."

Prinn's face lights up. He crams the bottle back into his tube, then straightens his back, like he was born to take this five minute task.

"I planned to get some reviver seeds anyway so Braviary can teach me to fight! I can poke around, see if anyone says anything, and if they ask why I'm asking about Scoria I'll show 'em my map!"

His water typing, his map, and his hobby paint the eloquent picture of a chipper little adventurer wanting to chart out the expanses of the Dusk Continent. He can put on a good "explorative water-type charting the oceans" act.

His glee goes unappreciated. A tired "Sure, kid." leaves Braviary's mouth.

"Just get it done on your own time." Leon adds. "Braviary will be off to get himself checked, you and I will be searching around town for anything pointing to our merchant."

"Wait."

Braviary stops dead in place, the exit ahead seemingly no closer than it was earlier - the forest ceiling still thick with leaves. He waits for a thing neither of them can sense; it never comes. He exhales, and they see him shrink back to size. Leon gives him an odd look.

"Sorry, it's the nerves." The bird squints at the distance. "My last working thing is my eyes. And when we fell into the odd hole, the shadows, and light acted all strange. The way the sun goes through all those leaves plays tricks on my eyes; it makes me think we're back in one of those places - whatever you called them.."

Surely, that place would not be the first. If these are such a common occurrence, then it's only inevitable he'll find himself in another dungeon, either alone, or with these fellows. He needs to find out how they, how to navigate through them, and what to expect when navigating them. Most importantly, learning to avoid them altogether. Never should they wander into a dungeon again.

Not far from them, a cold wind sweeps through an enduring tree. He hears one of its limbs snap with age, casting several leaves to the sky like a flock of flying types. Once stuck staring off into the distance, he cannot bring himself to look away.

"Dungeons." Leon corrects.

"Right." He nods. "Though I'd be inclined to think it more a maze than a slammer, a dungeon's a bit of a prison-sounding word. Not what I'd use."

Where did he get "slammer" from?

"When we get there, I'm gonna go look for some fellow who can look into my memories, like you said I should, and I said I would. Where exactly are y'all going?"

"I was thinking we'd first go to the Mail Office, ask if Eileen's things have been tampered with. We'll see what unravels from there, but I know for sure we're going to need to find a place to stay. Unless you insist on being there with me and Prinn, you can do that."

There's no guild to house them this time, to feed them their meals and to keep them under their roofs, or even be kind to them in the first place. As much as the dungeon had been dangerous, they were going to be well alone in the town ahead. It is good to talk these things through, Braviary thinks.

"I can look about getting a place after the fellow's done with me." Braviary nods. "\There a market we can meet at?"

"There are markets." Leon blinks. "How about Sundown Guildhall? We should just meet outside right before nightfall, I don't think there's a world where anyone can miss it."

"Is it that big?"

The Smeargle laughs.

"It isn't the one here, but there's a guild who built their hall into an entire hollowed-out cliff, Braviary. The whole thing, about four huge floors down to near the sea-level. Guilds are big, you'll come to know them pretty well."