Missing Fortune Teller! Guild and Business in shambles!
Looking for brave pokemon to help me look for a missing Psychic Type named Xatu. I believe he's gone northward, towards the Tundra. Payment will be 8% of The Emporium's revenue for a Month. Negotiable!
Now, to say the Sundown Guild was in shambles because of one psychic taking an extended break was a gross overstatement on Judeau's behalf, but their business isn't gonna exist next month if they don't find out wherever Xatu's gone to. The guild needs them to do readings, the Emporium isn't gonna last as a business if their one poke who can do readings is out in nowhere land. They weren't even sure where Teacher was, other than the fact that out of two pokemon from Scoria Town who came their way, neither made mention of their mentor.
The Obsidian Peninsula and Calico regions accounted for, so Xatu has either become lost in a dungeon or he's off north, towards Lapis Town and to the frigid beyond.
Waiting around at the Emporium was nice, but they need Xatu back. Their business can lose out on some money, but what they can't lose is a friend.
A huge bill taps the paper in front of Judeau, and the big eyes of a Pelipper give them a curious look. It was towards closing time for Pelipper Post and Judeau had rewritten the same letter at least three or so times. They reluctantly fold the paper with telekinetic force, and the big old bird slurps it up into their bill.
"Who's it To?" The Pelipper asks, garbled by a bill full of mail.
"Send it to the Scholar's Guild." They glance over their shoulder, as if they could somehow see the board outside. "Can you put a copy on the board too? I'm looking to get the message out to anyone."
"Sundown Guild, too?"
Judeau sighs.
"Maybe in the future." They nudge a couple of coins closer to the bird. "This'll cover both, and uh…"
Their eyes glance at the several crumpled up pages lying at their feet, so many letters and papers wasted in pursuit of eye-catching perfection.
"Sorry for keeping you."
With a wave of their stubby hand Judeau excuses themselves out the door. They've been here for so long that night has fallen and the guild's light is fully ablaze. It's gorgeous, one of a kind. It's just woken them so many times after long daytime shifts that it's begun to lose some of its lustre. Maybe they need another year to get used to it.
The artificial sun was tenfold brighter than the crescent moon.. Every lonesome water-type swimming out there, or those ferrying from continent to continent can see the Sundown Guild's pillar shining in the horizon. If they were to have the eyes of a Pidgeot they might be able to spot the distant islands around the Grass Continent, maybe even farther than that.
The possibility of Xatu having taken a ferry to lands abroad hasn't left their mind, it's just very, very unlikely anyone would be doing trips as the cold seasons approach. So unlikely, in fact, they must've conjured someone out of thin air. Something emerges from the shadow of the moon, gliding over the waters like a bird in the air. It's a stunning Lapras carrying a purple beacon of their own.
The light comes from a man adorned with a colar of ghastly flames, swaying like clumps of seaweed and flickering as they leap off Lapras' shell onto the waterlogged dock. He wears a most peculiar hat, purple like the Orb Seller, but in the shape and adorned with a metallic feather like the local bard. Licks of ghostly fire lights his smile, red eyes glowing with determination. The stranger greets them with a dramatic wave, then bows his head to Lapras.
"Carry on to home, my friend." His voice feels warm, there's an ease and sincerity to his candor. "I won't ask you to take me on another trip for a while."
"Thank you, I can't risk too many voyages with what The Sea has become." The Transport Pokemon briefly smiles. "The cold is no problem, I have you to keep me warm."
Lapras turns around, giving the lonely psychic a nod of acknowledgement before he floats off into the distance. "Take care." He says, moving swiftly, making not a sound as he glides over the sparkling Sea.
Before Judeau can ask who or what, the two pokemon are interrupted by a gale overtaking them, as the entire fleet of Pelipper burst out of the beak-shaped lid of the mail house with beaks crammed full of paper. They don't fly in the dark, they don't go all at once, something is off. And the explorer is staring up at it, hands on these two fist-sized cages fastened by a belt to his hips.
As the flapping subsides, he finally speaks to Judeau.
"You'd swear the world was ending with how many were flying out, I wonder what's so important?" The sharp-dressed explorer moves towards Judeau, extending a hand in greeting. "The name is Masters, by the way."
"Master of what?" Judeau asks, tapping his hand with their stubby limb.
"Now isn't that the question? It's just a name, I'm not secretly three Cyndaquil masters stacked in a purple coat." He laughs. "And yours?"
"Judeau."
"Pleasure meeting you, Judeau." He pulls his hand away, and keeps it on his hip at all times, resting on a tiny cage. "I don't want to cut our introduction short, but time's a hot commodity for me. Wouldn't you happen to know where I can find a certain bird?"
He points to his hat. The feather pinned to it is made of a slick, crimson metal.
"Wears a yellow hat like this, plays a lot of music."
"Sounds like the bard." Judeau points near towards the tavern. "I can show you over to the tavern, my shop's just past-"
The off-colored typhlosion's already on the move, jogging away with purpose to his stride. He waves back, laughing from a distance.
"As I've said, a hot commodity!"
As quick as he was to appear, the odd explorer vanishes into the dense brightly lit streets. In his wake are all the squawking of Pelipper overhead, and as if it were a note left by him truly, a loose piece of paper flutters down to the earth. Judeau swipes it with an invisible hand, and brings it before their gem-like eyes. It looks like a bounty, no a treasure hunt - a grand search organized by the Murkrow for something they've never heard of before:
Time Gears.
Whatever these were, it warrants sending out the whole flock of Mail-pokes to spread the word. And whoever turns them in will receive a handsome reward of a hundred thousand a gear, almost enough to start a guild, more than enough to retire for the rest of one's career. For a land occupied with two guilds of different shades, and all the others in between, the Dusk Continent was the best place to host this sort of hunt.
If Judeau didn't have their priorities in a row, they honestly might've taken the 'Krows up on this once in a lifetime deal. But he's a business owner, not an explorer. When their psychic abilities amount to giving people minor headaches no price was worth risking their skin.
They read the paper as they hover through the stone streets. Just about anyone who was out at this hour had a pamphlet in their hands. Caravan guards, first rank guildies, the normally silent streets are filled with explorers discussing their future riches and hedging bets. The prize was intoxicating, finding one of these things would make them a legend.
Alas, Judeau wasn't easily tempted.
The Emporium's swaying sign greets them when they make it home. The thick blue curtains draped over the windows, blotting any sliver of light from reaching inside the mysterious Emporium. They reach for the door's knob, twist it, and it's unlocked.
Their heart instantly skips a beat. Did they leave the key behind? They check their person, it's still on them. The counter and shelf appear untouched through the crack in the door.. Maybe they had simply forgotten.
Taking a deep breath, Judeau braces themselves and pops their head inside to an empty emporium. Chairs, the valuable Orbs, everything seemingly where it used to be. They lock the door behind them, and are about to take a sigh of relief when they spot a pair of bright crimson eyes staring between the curtains.
"Hey, are you-"
A cyan figure bursts out of the blue camouflage, sprinting towards them with the force of a raging rampardos. Their hands constrict Judeau's neck, slamming them against the door's window with a thunk. The air leaves their lungs.
"Don't you scream or say a word unless you want to be tied up and thrown to the Dungeon ferals, you hear?" The Lucario in a ragged cape and hat snarls. "You're gonna help me, then you're gonna forget you've ever seen me."
"W-With what?" Judeau squeals.
He shoves a piece of paper into Judeau's hand. They take a glance: it's that bounty!
"You're a psychic. If you're good enough for those guild snobs, then you're good enough for me." He shoots a glare at the paper, and back at Judeau. "You're gonna point me in the direction of one of these gears, and then we're gonna go on like this never happened. You got that, Five-head?"
Five-head?
"Y-yes, I understand!." They point to the hands around their throat. "C-can you let me go now?"
Lucario drops them onto their stubby feet, and their psychic abilities let them hover a comfortable two inches off the cold floor. His eyes follow Judeau's every move as he leans up against the door like this place is his home. There's no getting out.
"So, work your magic." Lucario motions his hands.
"Yes sir, but you had picked an inconvenient time to barge in here." They try to be as cordial as possible to their intruder. "My teacher, the pokemon who could point you in the direction of a gear, has been gone for a month."
"You're saying you can't?"
"I can't." They stammer. "But I can show you to someone who can! She's just in the square, she's the ghost. She peddles orbs all night and day."
She's as good, or even better than Xatu thanks to the plethora of resources she has at her disposal. The sole thing barring the town ghost from running the Emporium out of business is a gentleman's agreement, and her own kindness. There's no bad blood between them, quite the opposite, Judeau would just rather not promote another business when theirs is sinking faster than a brick in water. But they'd rather not find out what's gonna happen when this guy doesn't get his way.
"I've heard of her, what's her deal?"
"I wish I knew. She's got strange methods but I know they work." They force a reassuring smile. "She's the best person for scrying in these parts, shy of my missing mentor. I can't help you. She can."
There's a pause, the Emporium becomes quiet enough for them to hear the waves not too far from the shop. Lucario looks to the sky, then through the curtains covering the door, as he's looking for any reason not to pulverize them. With a short huff, the Lucario in murkrow clothing reaches into his raggedy cape and takes out an Oran-colored bottle. He swallows half of it, then pushes the rest into Judeau's hands. The top of it is covered in slobber.
"It's the Enigma stuff, it's in an old Oran Bottle so people don't start asking questions. Go sell it to a newbie, you can maybe get a hundred with your half."
Lucario ruffles Judeau's nonexistent hair, then slaps the side of their big smooth head. He leans down, getting his teeth right into the psychic's face.
"Oh, and don't you say anything about me. You don't want your master coming home to an empty house."
A conniving smile stretches across his face, pulling up his gums to reveal a set of brass-tipped teeth. Letters have been engraved into them, cutting deep enough to reveal the tar-stained whites.
"EAT IT!" Lucario's teeth say.
He walks out the door, and slams it shut behind him, hushing the psychic into stunned silence.
Part Two: Time Thieves