What does he think he is, clever?
A stranger comes to a strange land, notices the gaze of her majesty's guards, then swiftly slithers off. The stranger had the smell of the sea on him, stronger than anyone else at the time, and spectral flames sprouting from back.
The Corviknight descends from atop the castle, soaring over the rooftops of her kingdom. His eyes are set on a bright street at the town's center, alight with merchants even as twilight looms. The shadows of corvisquire line the rooftops, barely illuminated by the lantern light, surrounding both entrances to one little shop. None of her people pay the growing flock any heed, they all know better than to get into the way of an inspection.
Oskarr lands on an adjacent roof, his talons and weight causing the building to creek. Two of his squires peer up at him, bowing their heads in subordination.
"Sir." One of his lessers speaks. "We saw him enter here, the merchants here corroborated it."
"And where did he go?"
"Went into the streets, vanished, he bought a different pair of clothes and vanished. I presume he has either gone home, or…"
Is looking for the heir, or is otherwise coming here to sell contraband or bring general disorder. Once he is dealt with, detained or interrogated, then they can be sure he is not some meddlesome wretch. The last thing her majesty needs is a man from abroad coming to cause trouble while they are right on the precipice of putting this lineage matter to rest.
"You disappoint me, but your failure falls on the shoulders of the man inside. If he is arrested I will not have you punished." Oskarr says flatly to this warrior, studying their quills, every distinguishable detail about them to lock their face in his memory. "I will not accept anything other than an admittance of guilt from this merchant."
The bird shakes in place. His beak rattles, moving slowly.
"Sir, it was not me. I was not on duty."
"Then I will have your entire garrison vote on which of you gets lashed to an inch of your life. Carnivine has been desperate for traitors to torment since her majesty has tightened the borders, and I'm sure, with your typing it will be a long one."
The squire shivers, bowing to Oskarr and stepping aside. With a flap of the Corviknight's wings he lands before the shop. The building is painted in two halves, one white, one black. The black side has a sign depicting a book, the other has a little robe on display. He knows this place. He has been here before. A TM vendor lives here.
His armor creaks and rattles as he steps towards the door. He pounds on it, hard.
The doors slide open on their own revealing its two owners. Kaz, jotting down books, while Kirlia is in a far flung corner sewing outfits together with thread. Both seem none too disturbed by the murder of birds flooding their room.
He looks over the shop.. Save for its crowded nature, the featureless smell of Odd Incense wafting through the air, and the many wares on both walls of the shop, nothing strikes him as unusual, yet.
"Kaz, is it?"
The Gothitelle looks up, his long fingers gently closing the book he had been writing, leaving it on the desk before him.
"Indeed. There appear to be an issue, sir?"
He addresses him in a genteel, calm tone. Kirlia does not stop their work, busy hemming away, not even acknowledging his supposed coworker is being interrogated right this moment. He motions at one of his men, then at Kirlia, and they begin watching over Kirlia's shoulders.
"Yes indeed, and I would implore you don't act coy with me."
Kaz blinks.
"You have been caught aiding a foreign agent, we are here for your and your friend's arrest. Your compliance is a nonfactor, neither is your guilt, we will detain you for a short time until this threat is dealt with. Am I clear?"
This gets Kirlia's attention. He looks over to his friend in worry, but stays his tongue.
"Sir, what you're suggesting would put us out of business. How long would we be detained for?"
"As long as it takes for us to capture this agent. Your resistance will be seen as aiding a foreign threat, and you will be punished accordingly."
Kaz takes a deep breath,stuffing his book away alongside the others behind his counter.
"Though I believe you are wrongly arresting me, I don't quite think I can resist your overwhelming numbers. There is no point in making a fuss if I am innocent. As long as I can be assured you will have your guards watching our abode I will come peacefully."
Oskarr scoffs.
"Is this a threat, Kaz?"
The gothitelle looks at him with great confusion.
"Nothing of that sort, I dare not oppose you nor your empress, I simply do not have the prowess to do so - nor does anyone. Attacking you accomplishes nothing, so I am not to humor the thought." Kaz speaks with certainty and without disdain. "I am curious as to what has gotten thee in such a tussle. Has something gone awry with this visitor, mayhaps? Is there something the matter?"
"That is not for me to answer.." Oskarr motions at one of his men, and they plop over, cuffing Kaz's hands with chain bindings. Another does the same to the Kirlia. "You will be detained, and you will be interrogated. I will ensure you will not be mistreated so long as you comply with our demands."
"And what if I don't?" Kaz asks, tilting his head.
Oskarr just laughs.
"You should know better than to humor those thoughts, traitor."
It is the afternoon. Finding directions is unneeded, there is just another dock on the side of the island where his friend is waiting for him.
The sky has begun to shift in hue. Dusk is a few hours away at this point, but it is steadily approaching. The further Masters dalleys away from the main streets, the less and less lively they become. The buildings thin, the usual rabble replaced by exhausted-looking workers returning to their homes. Mostly water types, a lot of water types, flying mons too.
Of course a set of Islands would be populated by those two ilks, the northmost one and the southern hotter one must be the exceptions. This is a strange new place, and he is a stranger. Thankfully after wearing these new robes he blends in a bit better, though some still glance his way, obviously never having seen a ghostly typhlosion in their lives - neither has he until he became one.
He follows the road away from the town, going further and further downhill till he will eventually find another dock a slight ways away from the big one in town in its own little cranny of sorts, a peninsula basically locking this place in. The buildings get a little thicker, though they are far from the crafts houses and workshops of up above, just nicer-than-hut abodes with the same shingled rooftops as everywhere else.
The night slowly descending upon the world he makes it to the wooden dock. Ferry mons are taking in their last few stragglers for the night as nobody wants to be caught out in the waters in the pitch darkness.
More and more leave as Masters surveys the watery shore except for one, a Lapras, their eyes shut tightly as they bob to side with rope keeping them from floating off. Finally his good man has gotten some rest. And just as he starts to step towards him, his eyes instantly flash open, looking at Masters with a soft grin.
It is hard to see at first but he's already bought himself a silk to on his back along little accouterments Sea-faring folks here seem to wear, like a gold-ish warning chime to wear from his curly ears. Lapras motions behind him.
"Come aboard, sorry I wasn't awake, I had to catch some shut eye."
"You don't need to apologize for sleeping." Masters groans, hopping onto Lapras' shell. "How do you like this place so far?"
"Quite scenic, and the people are very polite to me, I think it's because of local camaraderie for ferries. So my experience may not be as authentic." Lapras chuckles, pushing away from the dock with his giant fins. The force slips the rope loose. "And you?"
"I wasn't joined to a dock, so I can say I had a more complete experience. Met with a person who deals with information, and he said to follow islands to the northernmost one. It has a volcano on it - hard to miss I could imagine."
"Ah! Is that where your friend is?"
"I believe so. You're a water type, I'm a fire type, if there are going to be anyone who can survive a fiery dungeon if need be I would bet our chances stand above most others. It's our first lead, if not, then we can try other places."
Slowly, Lapras finds his way, flapping his fins in the dark water and gently gliding them towards the exit of the bay. He is a natural and chats all the while.
"Who told you this?" Lapras asks.
"A gothitelle running a shop with a local psychic, they told me the leader here has been running a census, and until now her search has been going smoothly till the final place - the aforementioned island. Her guards are in a bind, so there is something up there, whether that is our friend or not we have to find out at the very least."
"And you trust this fellow?" Lapras continues with the questions. "I apologize if my questions are becoming too much."
"You don't need to. I don't trust him fully, it's just our first lead. Any lead other than him being anywhere is bound to be worth investigating, and I don't think it's possible he would have escaped to a different continent without getting the attention of every guard under the sun. They don't seem to have explorers or anything, just actual warriors."
"I didn't notice the security was this tight."
"That's the point, I believe, nobody really paid attention to them. They were all up on the roofs, out of-"
His ears twitch, he swears he can feel the hairs begin to tingle on his back. No, he would have been able to sense it, but…maybe?
Masters turns around. The sun sets along the city in the distance and the little dock town in its shadow becomes further and further away. He squints - the natural darkvision slowly flickering to life as the sun dims. Then, only then, can he see it: a small figure flapping its wings in the twilight, shadowing them out of the dock to the open Sea.
If he had not looked around…
Masters reaches into his new lanterns, now octagonal in shape, then lights both candles within. Masters tries to put on a show then gives up altogether, letting both embers flow simultaneously - sending them under the dark water.
Two homing moves hit simultaneously. There is a squawk, then the splash of a pokemon falling into the water. Lapras swerves his head back.
"What was that?"
Masters reignites his lanterns, keeping his gaze out whence they came.
"A reminder we're on the right track."
Light slips through the iron bars overhead. A damp straw mattress does not protect his back against the cold stone floor. Groans and whines of his fellow inmates fill the hallways.
"Silence!"
A corvisquire's squawk fills the hall; someone bites back.
"I'll be silent when you tell me what I did wrong!"
A righteous voice shakes Kaz out of his stupor. He gets off his pitiful bedding to peek through the bars. Across from him a fighting type in chains shakes and rattles his bars. Sawk, a dockworker.
"I am not required to answer you, inmate! You think of breaking those bars or chains and I'll ship you out into the Sea - you hear? That is what we do to you traitors!"
"Oh, I'm so scared of being thrown overboard, not like I've swam between Prism Isle and back a hundred times before - couldn't be me. Bugger off!" The Sawk tries to press his head through the bars to look at his captor. "I know I did nothing wrong, so you can sit there and bawk all you want!"
"I said silence!"
The corvisquire flashes something, whatever it is it's scary enough to put Sawk back into his place. The fury in his eyes fades as he looks at his fellow inmate.
"Got you too? Thought you're just a TM maker."
"It is indeed who I am. A passionate forger through and through and always will be. The people here think I am anymore than who I am. They think I am clever enough to be a conspirator, I'd treat it as a compliment if it didn't draw suspicion."
Sawk sighs. The door rattles when he leans against the bars.
"I don't know how to make those things, so you're smarter than me, I guess. What did you do?"
Plenty of things, plenty he is not going to share at this given moment, nor perhaps ever. Kaz gestures in the direction of the guard, Sawk nods quietly in response.
"Right, innocent." A spark goes off behind Sawk's eyes. "Hey, you think you could, you know."
He makes some kind of magic gesture motion with his hands, then points at the guard. The hall is angled in a way he cannot see them. Kaz shakes his head.
"It doesn't work that way, I need sight.'
Sawk slumps to the floor, back against the door as he mozies off into his own thoughts - whatever they are. One can only wonder why a dock worker was dragged into this, mayhaps he let the wrong man pass. There is no good in imprisoning him, nor is there in getting too attached to collateral damage.
Someone does not arrive from across the Sea searching for that person in particular - the man who quartered themselves off on the northern isle to hide themselves from a throne they have the right to. There are traitors here, fundamentalists who want to see someone of real blood leading this land, Kaz is not one of them. He sees the man in hiding for what he once was: an insecure boy with too big of a mouth forced to where few in the Sea of Wonders dare to go.
If there is anyone who is going to get the boy out it is going to be the stranger who came from across the Sea, already prepared and willing to do so.
A flap of wings and tapping of talons come down the hallway. Kaz backs away when a wing pounds on his door.. Kirlia is thrown onto the cold mat like a useless rag. There is a mark on his cheek, and before he dares get a look, a cold iron seizes Kaz's hand.
"It's time we talk."