"Highness?"

Voices fill the darkness. Two bicker in the haze.

"Can't you see her majesty's asleep? What am I to do, soil the Empress' rest? Leave her be, if it isn't clear by now, she is overworked."

"That I am aware of, forgemaster. Ducklett delivers an important message, the latest consensus, I am simply asking to lay the news at her desk. Nothing else, Oskarr."

"She's had many done already, all of whom dropped at her desk with the same "urgency". I am not going to humor another peasant's claims to the throne. The throne belongs to her as it stands. Delivering word of baseless opposition is unnecessary. Give it to me, I will see through this consensus of yours myself."

There is a loud shing, like metal against metal. More of her senses return, starting with smell. Sea Incense fills the air, the whole palace is drenched with it. The effect it has on elevating Water-Types is an utmost necessity, for if there is ever an attack she would be ready for it, but mainly it's to keep her from, well, from the current state she is in. Overworked, exhausted, trying her best to grip onto consciousness as every moment not spent awake is a moment to allow disaster to strike, she barely feels "alive".

"Surely you would understand I would not deliver a message in person if it were not of utmost importance. Let me give it to her."

"I've already told you to give it to me, Samurott. You should be lashed for your insubordination, you're fortunate she favors you."

"Because…"

There is a pause, as if he is spending a moment to survey his options. The shutter to her room closes, the door locked tight behind him. He steps across the mat towards Oskarr, whispering something so quiet, she does not hear.

"Empress, awake!"

The Corviknight's shout forces her eyes open. She stirs, sitting upright behind a desk cluttered with maps and papers. Her quarters lit by two sconces flanking her, has all its doors, even the curtains shut. Oskarr, a corviknight in brass mail, approaches her with a letter in his wing. She takes it, slicing the letter open with one of her razor-edged flippers, and looks it over.

It is a list of names, of species, and their respective families - a consensus. She has read hundreds of these things since taking the throne, all of them presented by people who think they have the right to rip the throne from her. No one in these isles has any right to stew such disorder. Every claim like this she has answered with swift punishment, the only crime in these entire lands which is punishable by execution.

Her eyes gloss over it. She fails to see what is so important. It takes a moment, but realization hits in.

They have covered mostly everyone - all barring a man who said he had claim to the lineage, offhandedly at first, but fleeing his home without word. Years ago he sent his child abroad, disappearing from friends and family. And it is only now did his claims of a lineage resurface. This Lucario, whoever he is, needs to be found.

"Send an envoy to his village, have anyone who has had any contact with him interrogated. I want to know if this is true, we have to treat any claim with the same level of scrutiny. When did he say this?"

"When he was very young, highness." The Samurott, donned in jagged, dark shells looks her way. "His village on the isle closest to Fire Isle, we'll have it searched, but people are already saying he stopped speaking about these claims when the borders closed."

"Good enough." She sighs wearily.

"I'll be heading with your envoys." The Corviknight speaks.

"No you won't. You will remain here, my steed." She speaks with authority. "Let your squires do as they have been asked. I will want to see this man's execution myself."


Light, sunlight, actually hits him for once. Even spending no less than a day there his sense of time is already strewn to the side, but now the morning sun crests upon the horizon, casting the Sea in a vibrant, orange-purple glow. Upon stirring awake Lapras pipes up.

"I can see islands ahead!" Lapras says. "Would you be kind enough to fetch me some Elixir? It is hard to reach for it when I'm trying to keep us afloat."

"How long have you been swimming for?" Masters blinks, plucking a brown vial from one of the swaying pouches, and uncorking it. The syrupy smell wrinkles his nose. "You can always take a break."

"Ah, been swimming since you last went to sleep, we hadn't stopped since I found a school of mantine to chat with. You were still asleep, they offered to carry you for a while. I consider the few hours I had not carried you my rest."

Was he that asleep? How bad was it? Nevermind, being dragged along by these "mantine" thingies does not sound fun to think about. He holds the opened elixir up to Lapras, who in one fell swig, holds it in his mouth and chugs it all down - hard leppas in the syrup included. Somehow he doesn't choke on it, in fact, he already looks more spry.

"Thank you!" He chuckles. "Had to Waterfall us away from a few water spouts earlier, you should have seen them! Stretched right to the sky."

"Lapras, please. Telling me about scary things at Sea isn't much of a help."

"Ah, sorry. I excite myself far too easily."

Masters takes a look around. Everywhere, other than directly ahead of them, is nothing but water. He can make out shapes on the horizon, one large, the two smaller - spread apart by a swim's length. It is hard to tell. What he can see is the largest of these three blobs has a tower, a very obvious, shining artificial structure standing over the horizon. It reminds him of Calico's guild.

"It has been open waters for well over a full day. I had followed the flow leading from the furthest tip of Blizzard Island, leading us here. You should write this down on your map."

"I'll…try to remember to do so." Masters chuckles.

Closer, closer, the tower looms. What he thought is only a measly landmark turns out to be a whole castle resting on the shores, with shingled, angled roofs looking even more industrial than what was once Calico Town. It feels like stepping into a different world, one unhampered by the progression of guildies, explorers and the likes. Full of knights and keeps - Halcion would go crazy about this place!

The dock is alive. Ferry mon from gargantuan wailords to Larpas like his friend, wait to carry fellows on their backs to the other islands. It takes them a good moment before they can even find a spot to pull up against. And once there, he steps out into a wooden dock. The men working the place stare at the newcomer with confusion, a Sawk dockhand makes some kind of motion at him. Four or so others gather up behind him, a family of Maril - how familiarly quaint.

He looks at the fighting type, he keeps making this gesture. Masters waves back, then nods at Lapras.

"Hey, uh, he's my friend. We're not from here."

The Sawk blinks at him.

"This is a dock for commerce and transports, you can get off but your friend has to go to the other." He mumbles an apology to the family, then turns towards Masters. "Not here to cause trouble? Outsiders aren't usually - typically welcome."

Before the cloud of suspicion rises on him, Lapras quietly backs out the dock to find another way on, and Masters, taps the one thing everyone understands: his coinpouch. When it jingles the Sawk's expression twists from confusion to one of a welcoming smirk.

"That changes things."

The family backs away, going to one of the plethora of benches underneath a large, thatch sunroof. Transportation hub is right, this place looks even better than the one in Lapis Town. To think he thought it was so impressive…

Sawk leans against two large creates towards one the ports labelled "Cargo" in bulky archaic Unown Runes

"What brings you here? Where are you from?" The Sawk asks, his interest seems genuine. "Outsiders are rare…"

"Those are two very loaded questions, both I am being respectful of our time by not answering." Why did he say that? Why did it sound so- nevermind. Masters keeps talking. "We just came from the Dusk Continent, we're travellers."

"Dusk Continent?"

"Ice cold places, there are seasons where the sun doesn't shine for a whole day. It's way south of the Grass Continent?"

"Grass Continent? Are you making things up?"

This is how he knows he really crossed the world, how could nobody not know of the Grass Continent? Everyone knows of what happened over there, or are they truly this - nevermind, not worth making a fuss over.

"You wouldn't want to go there either, you'd hit Blizzard Isle and it'll swallow you whole. We went days on open water just to get here." Masters keeps going on. "Sand Continent?"

"Ah, the Kingdom of the Sands.. You can make it there from Prism Isle, our closest neighbours. Prism's the southmost, the hottest, plenty of mines there. And if you think this port is big, you haven't seen a thing!"

Learning things one at a time, he can keep this up.

"Trade friends?"

"Indeed, for decades, the only place our empress feels comfortable with. Mist Continent people are too big for their britches, they give you outsiders a bad rep. I think you in particular will manage alright.."

Mist Continent, now he is the one with names being thrown over his head. He gives the Sawk a curt nod and a bow, stepping past him, through the roofed area, up a stone stairs and finally into the city proper.

Arched roofs, smooth, stone streets, impressive masonry all around and a keep which towers high above the town on a whole raised platform. It is bustling here, so many pokemon, majority of whom are water types, go about their lives unaware of the complete stranger in their midst. On the roof of every street corner, dark blue flying types keep tabs on the people. Guards, by the looks of them. He swears he knows what these things are.

Plucking the feather from his hat, he squints at one, holding up the feather. A perfect match. These are young corviknight, and if corviknight are anything, they make for tremendous defenders and warriors. Their quills make for good armor, or w-

One of the birds catches him staring. Masters, thinking swiftly, stuffs the feather back where it belongs, slinking into the crowd of busy strangers. Judging by the open-looking buildings, this path he is in is where all the shops arch. Huge, ornate, lavishly decorated arches mark both ends of it. Lapras will be here soon, hopefully, straying too far from this street is a bad idea so he may as well see what sorts of things this land has to offer.

The first stall he comes across has familiar, lovely wines. The other stall has these bright fanciful garments on display. Before he can even look at the third, someone calls out.

"Hey, hatted guy! Can we get a look at you?"

His heart skips a beat. He looks around, the shrill-ish sounding voice comes from a Kirlia. He stands there, beckoning Masters. Inside he can see another pokemon, tall darkly clad, eyeing at him with red beady eyes. The two beckon him, and with nothing else to do, he follows Kirlia into their shop.

It is an absolutely lovely sign when the doors shut behind him, but Kirlia is quick to defuse the situation, showing his hands.

"Nothing is the matter. You were sticking out like a sore limb out there, you don't even have good clothes."

And speaking of clothes, this Kirlia was dressed in something nice, a fine white robe reminiscent of a Froslass. The silks are folded over his chest, then are cut short somewhere around his "skirt".

"Really that bad?" Masters laughs nervously. "I didn't think you had dress codes here."

"No dress code. We want to keep you out of trouble." Tall, dark, and psychic there answers. The Gothitelle has his weird frills slicked back into a head of what is almost hair. "I'm sure someone has given you the low down on your arrival, if not, allow me to be blunt: people here are superstitious of outsiders."

"Worried about criminals coming in?"

"You can say so, largely superstition. You'll avoid a stern talking to if you can dress the part, Distortions forgive you if the guards got you in their sights."

"They already do." Masters states bluntly. "Are they the birds on the roofs?"

"They don't." The Kirlia answers. "I don't feel a rise in suspicion from them, you, Kaz?"

"Nay, thought it is not my place to constantly be spying on people psychically. You'll drive yourself mad trying to make sense of those wayward emotions, Kirlia."

Kaz and Kirlia. One half with the building is Kirlia's, their side has all sorts of sewing material, plenty of robes on sale made from the deft fingers of a psychic. Kaz's side are decorated with books with exhorbinate prices, the scintillating colors of the tomes remind of something, and looking closer, he can see why.

Each of these books have a move, or ability, put on its colorful spines in Unown script. Training Manuals, TMs. They have always been out of his reach, too expensive. He could swear they were supposed to be more disk-shaped than…

Forget about it, it is all magic anyways.

"Did any strike your fancy?" Kaz speaks up.

"Nothing-" Masters shakes his head. "You seem to get I'm not from around here, I could use some help, directions. You're not part of the local authority, are you?"

"Considering I have nothing to gain from turning you in, and everything to gain by helping you, I am not." Kaz smirks softly. "You're a foreigner, unless you're escaping trouble on a distant land, you would be here with plenty of coins to your name, wouldn't you?"

"Yes?" Masters raises an eyebrow. "You trying to extort me?"

"No, though I do want to make some coin from you, if that is fair. It is will be for information, the purest of transactions." Kaz looks over to Kirlia. "Do you mind taking his measurements?"

Kirlia looks at him, Masters nods. They float up a small ruler against Masters and begin making measurements with their eyes writing numbers down into a small notebook they took from their desk. He lets it happen, all the while keeping his gaze sternly on the taller of the two.

"So, Kaz, assuming I am going to buy from you without question, are there things you are willing to share with me - a complete stranger from afar - about your homeland here?" The ruler nudges his arm, he lifts it up and keeps it there for Kirlia to examine. "I'm really not looking to cause a fuss, I'm just looking for someone dear to me."

"Oh, same sayeth of our empress. She had locked down the isles and subjected each one to a long consensus, searching for someone of noble blood." Kaz explains. "Beginning from the south, she moved her way to the north after many years, till now her search has suddenly gone on pause.'

This all strikes him as familiar, of course the kid will be of noble blood, he is literally born from Celebi.

"Did she find someone of noble blood?" Masters asks, cocking his head to the side. "Does that someone happen to be a person of the fighting-type variety in blue fur?"

The Gothitelle takes a deep breath.

"Taking an official consensus of everyone in these isles takes time, alot of dragging people out from their homes to sign papers, combing through the unpopulated sectors for folks. After scouring the northern isle her usual patrols of corvisquire have stopped, and everything has gone silent. I suspect whatever she has been looking for, whether it be a person or artifact lies in the home of Entei."

The name does not strike him as familiar, though the way it was spoken of with reverence paints a picture of a Legendary who once dwelled there. He had not gotten a full view of the isles on the way here, but the northmost did strike him as the most barren, the least developed. The active volcano there is probably why.

"What do you mean you're not sure?"

"It could be an artifact she has unearthed or person with claim to the throne.." Kaz shrugs "Would you risk either?"

He feels a tug then lifts his arm, as the sleeve to a long silken robe is draped over one and the other. Both sides of the robe wrap over each other, but leave his chest open to the world - leaving his adventuring gear out in the open for him to easily draw from. The fabric itself feels surprisingly silky, purple, and surely expensive. It goes down to his knees.. Kirlia looks at him, then holds out a hand.

"Thousand."

Ridiculous. He still has the money regardless. He forks the coins over, flashing a look of dissatisfaction before turning to the gothitelle.

"So, the north Isle, when she had her people check it out everything went to a halt, right? And if I happen to be a stranger from a faraway looking for someone with a connection to a legendary, he would be there because nothing's got the same response, right?"

Kaz smiles.

"Very likely so. And if I were thee I would keep thy head down, and ignore the guards altogether. This is an important operation to them, if they fail to seize the heir of any legendary, then he can easily challenge the empress' claim to the throne and sew all manner of chaos among her people. If the man you seek is the heir of a legendary then he is there I could arrange thy travel there, but…"

Masters raises a hand, the robes sliding down his arms. It's gonna take a bit of getting used to, quite honestly.

"I have a way there, no worries. I didn't come here alone."

Kaz nods.

"Then I wish you safe passage to fire Isle, and hopefully Entei is not awake to give thee trouble. I doubt he would give you much heed compared to the masses heading his way."

He flashes the duo a reassuring smile. Oh, he has no reason to believe them, sure, but their honesty was a breath of fresh air. He waves, then steps outside, the crowd of mons passing him by, completely ignoring him as he were one of their robed fellows. Worst comes to pass, he can defend himself well.

Lapras won't be far, he is on the other side of this island. They have a destination, finally, and that destination is to the ash-covered domain of Entei.