Chapter 21 - Bygones
Neuengelstadt, 15. Herbstmond, 1027 n. d. B.
Für wen es angeht,
Durch königlichen Erlass von König Siegmund von Wahrheit wird der Empfänger dieses Briefes hiermit angewiesen, alle Untergebenen unter seinem Kommando anzuweisen, für die Ankunft etwaiger Truppen der Fähnlein-Stärke der Armee Seiner Majestät bereitzustellen und die Nachricht von deren Ankunft unverzüglich seiner Majestät und sein Generalstab zu übermitteln.
Alle Vertreter von Fähnlein Stärke aus den Mannschaftsrängen müssen an den Toren gehalten werden und dem Generalstab seiner Majestät mitgeteilt werden, dass dieser einen Abgesandten entsenden soll, um sie zu treffen und alle Neuigkeiten und Erkenntnisse in einer sicheren Umgebung zu besprechen. Sollte ein Vertreter im Rang eines Stabsoffiziers vor Ihren Toren erscheinen, müssen Sie ihn oder sie anweisen, mit sofortiger Wirkung in seiner Residenz im Heldenschloss vor seiner Hoheit zu einer königlichen Audienz zu erscheinen.
Sie müssen allen Anfragen, die diese Vertreter bei Ihrer Ankunft an Sie stellen und die sich nicht auf ihre Vorladung beziehen, nicht nachkommen. Ihre Angelegenheiten von Fähnlein Stärke beziehen sich auf Angelegenheiten, die die Sicherheit des Reiches und seine Kriegsanstrengungen betreffen, und es sollte davon ausgegangen werden, dass sie den Segen seiner Majestät haben.
Jeder Versuch, den Erlass seiner Majestät zu behindern, wird als Insubordination gegenüber der königlichen Armee behandelt und dementsprechend bestraft.
- Dringende Depesche vom König von Wahrheit, Siegmund Wieshus, weitergeleitet an die Wehrturmhauptmänner der Neuengelstädter Mauern
High in the skies above Newangle City, Lacan banked around the Administrative District's spires. He watched as his shadow danced from one tower's cladding to another, all awash with the orange, sunset hues that looked almost like he'd painted them himself.
Being in the air was always a soothing experience for him, as the world below always seemed so far away, and even the fiercest foes and strongest ramparts seemed conquerable. He knew all too well that such feelings were often mere illusions. Even if he'd been told before that his strength was the envy of many a Pokémon of his rank in the army, he had lived experience and battle scars to prove that his power still had limits.
… Not that there was hardly any harm indulging one's follies from time to time. Gods knew that he hadn't had many opportunities to do so in recent years.
He turned his eyes towards the rooftops of the white-and-gray cladded towers and watched as countless figures teemed about on them. There were the garrisons for the Air Marshals and flightworthy soldiers, the first line of defense against any aerial assaults. There were the quarters for various nobles, residences which were maintained among the spires for when they were summoned by the crown. And of course, there were the rooftop shrines that had been set aside as roosts for visiting gods, including the one at the very top of Dämmerungsturm that had been built where the Founder and his patron goddess had once roosted. It housed the great eternal flame that Reshiram herself first stoked which was revealed to the world every night after its sliding shutters were moved away. A great sanctuary whose interior was said to have drawn inspiration from the Divine Roost itself for its layout…
And if all went well, soon enough, it'd be filled once again with awed and worshipful pilgrims.
The Salamence trailed off in his thoughts and sighed, when he realized his surroundings were strangely quiet beyond the sound of winds gusting past his ears. He braked in the air, and glanced back with a worried murmur.
"... Sophia?"
Lacan turned his body around just in time to spot his Corvisquire Obertsleutnant rounding around a broad tower just to the northeast, one which was a good distance behind him. A part of him felt a small pang of guilt. He supposed he should've expected that Sophia's armor would encumber her more as a smaller Pokémon.
He dove down and banked to fly through a gap in the broad tower, glimpsing up at a ceiling with exposed metal beams above him. Even here, directly beneath Agarezpalast₁, the traditional residence of Varhyde's kings up until the reign of King Sansa, which was somewhere on the topmost roof above him, there were lingering scars from past wars. Some of the broader towers in Newangle City had holes punched into them like this one, while others had sections which were abruptly shorn off. Some through the ravages of time, some all at once from cataclysms like the Sack of Angle City, the name by which the Kingdom's throne had been called when it happened.
And like in so much of Varhyde, there were newer scars left behind from things going unmaintained due to the needs of the war. There were segments of the towers that were missing chunks of cladding which had been dislodged by the elements, and others had grown stained and discolored. Supposedly in times of peace such as the golden years of King Sansa's reign, the crown had the resources to repair and replace such segments to make sure that the towers' appearances stayed smartly maintained, like giant Bildstöcke for the land's patron goddess…
But those peaceful days were long over, and it would be obscene to indulge in such extravagances with the Kingdom's present state. Why, with the circumstances that King Siegmund ascended to the throne in, Lacan doubted the King would dream of a gesture that would risk rankling the commoners after they had been asked to risk and sacrifice so much.
After popping out the other end of the tower's hole, Lacan spotted Sophia off to his left. He beat his wings and came up behind her, and batted his wings out as he neared. A stiff Tailwind kicked up between them, the wind ruffling the crow's feathers and making her glance back with a startled turn of her head.
"If you need a helping claw, don't be afraid to ask for it, Sophia," he insisted. "I wouldn't dream of denying it to you."
The Corvisquire remained silent. Was something troubling her? He knew that Sophia had been prone to melancholy spells for some years, but he didn't think that she'd been going through one of them recently…
The Salamence pulled alongside her and slowed his pace and turned a worried gaze over to his companion. She didn't say anything in reply other than to keep her attention trained on the passing towers ahead of them, before finally giving a quiet murmur in reply.
"Lacan, you don't need to watch over me like some fledgling. Lend your strength to those who need it more," Sophia insisted. "My wounds healed much longer ago than your own, and the last time I was assessed by a physician, I was told I won't be a Corvisquire for much longer."
Lacan reflexively opened his mouth to protest. To remind Sophia that the entire reason why she still trailed him in strength to such an extent when they'd shared most of their childhoods with each other was because of those injuries she'd sustained in battle. It had taken her three years after suffering them to recover to the point where she could fight again. And if it wasn't for those own injuries of his he'd endured that gotten him sent home while they were last deployed, she'd-
No. Lacan didn't want to think about what would've happened if he wasn't there to shield her during that ambush. He had always felt guilty for not being able to be there at her side in that dark time when she was still recovering from her wounds. Perhaps it was part of the reason why she was still suffering from those melancholy spells she'd had since her parents died.
Gods forbid Sophia had actually died on either of those occasions. Lacan didn't know what he'd have done afterwards if she had, and he prayed he'd never have to find out the answer to that question.
"There's nobody else for me to look after right now, Sophia. And it's important that you remember to care for your own interests from time to time," Lacan reminded. "I understand that your Ritterorden trained you about the importance of self-sacrifice, but it's important not to give up more than you can shoulder."
"... That is merely part of my duties as a Ritterin, Lacan," the Corvisquire said. "You should know this."
An uncomfortable silence came over the pair as they pulled up along the length of Dämmerungsturm. Sophia always had been willing to sacrifice for others and try and offer what comfort she could, to the point Lacan had sometimes wondered if the fates had intended for her to be a Kaplan₃ instead of a Ritterin.
It was that part of her that Lacan that quietly dreaded would one day claim her life.
It was part of the reason why he'd volunteered to take charge of Operation Spark in the first place after he was forced back to Varhyde a little over two years ago to recover from his own wounds he'd taken shielding Sophia in battle. A chance, however slim, that the war could finally be ended swiftly, that the fears of generations of Pokémon in Varhyde could finally be laid to rest.
Along with their much-denied yearnings for vengeance.
A flash of autumn colors crossed his eyes as the terraced gardens came into view up ahead on the southern face of Dämmerungsturm. That was their destination, Heldenschloss₂. A palace that prior to King Sansa also moving Varhyde's kings into it, had been a domain set aside as a residence of the Heroes of the land's patron goddess—not that there were any Pokémon who were still alive to claim the title.
Many centuries ago, the terrace had been a sloped roof, only to be laid waste by the thunder of Edialeigh's patron god during war. Through determination and force of will, the scarred portion of the tower had since been rebuilt into the leafy terrace that was there today. With the way it stood out against the tower's white and gray cladding, it provided an easy marker during daylight hours for fliers to spot the King's residence.
Even if the air was a bit chilly, he could see what compelled their forebears to not just abandon the place.
Except, there was only so much that he could enjoy the sights with King Siegmund's summons lingering at the back of his mind. It was the law of the land that any Pokémon who held a noble title had to present himself as soon as physically possible upon being summoned by the reigning monarch, and as a Graf, he was no exception to it. He already had an idea of what it would be about: King Siegmund surely wanted an explanation for why the Dyad was still not in his presence.
Lacan just hoped that that last minute turn of fate against him just outside Moonturn Square hadn't worn out His Majesty's patience.
"We're here, Sophia," he said. "Mind the crosswinds while landing."
Lacan banked and swooped towards the gardens as Sophia followed him. There, the lowest level of the terrace had a paved space of gray brickwork along the tower's edge, with markers pointing out directions for fliers and those who carried along air carriages used by some local nobles to safely land without running into each another.
The Salamence came to a jogging stop along the rooftop plaza, beating his wings to slow himself as the pair's arrival made other nearby fliers and Pokémon tending to air carriages to turn and gape briefly. He paid their prying eyes no heed and made his way up to the gates leading into the terrace's gardens, where a Haxorus and Raichu in green plates stood watch alongside a small party of their peers. The pair stiffened up and stood at attention after seeing him approach, and hurriedly stepped out into his path as the Haxorus reared up with a startled huff.
"H-Hold it! This is the main gate to Heldenschloss!" the Haxorus protested. "This is the King's palace! You can't just barge in here!"
Gods above, he did not need to deal with this right now. Lacan narrowed his eyes in reply, as a low, irritated growl rose from his throat.
"Are you blind?" the Salamence snapped. "Or do His Highness' honor guards no longer receive training in identifying basic military ranks these days?"
The Haxorus seemed to grow spooked and wavered briefly, before the Raichu of the pair stepped up. The Electric-type studied his scarf briefly, before pointing a paw up at his face with a sparking snort.
"Yeah, yeah, you're an Oberst, big whoop. 'mons with your rank aren't that rare," the Raichu scoffed. "Look, just because you're a bit up there in the army doesn't mean you're allowed to just swoop in without-"
"I'm afraid that things are a bit more complicated than that, Herr Raichu."
Lacan turned just in time to see Sophia shuffle a satchel off her back and fish through it with her beak to pull out their royal commission along with their summons. The Haxorus took the papers and glanced at them before swiftly blanching. The Raichu glanced up at his taller and bulkier companion with a puzzled blink, then back at the Salamence as he narrowed his eyes into a piercing glare back at the two guards.
"That would be Oberst im Generalstab₄, you impudent rat," Lacan growled. "I believe that those papers should speak for themselves, though please do go on and tell me how King Siegmund doesn't have time to meet with me. I'm sure he'll be just thrilled to hear about how you interfered with one of his summons."
The color quickly drained from the guards' faces as their peers quickly backed away, leaving the pair to squirm under Lacan's gaze. Lacan had supposed he'd heard tha King Siegmund's conscientiousness for his realm's war effort had prompted him to choose less accomplished guards for otherwise ceremonial duties such as his honor guard. Perhaps he'd been a bit too much so from the way these Pokémon were reacting to being caught off-guard like this.
"R-Raimond, why does nobody ever tell us about these-?" the Haxorus of the pair whined. "I-I mean, m-my apologies, Herr Brutalanda-"
"That's Herr Graf von Wellenhafen to you, Haxorus," Lacan snarled. "Now both of you, stop wasting our time and let us through!"
The Raichu blinked and turned his gaze between him and Sophia before Lacan stepped forward and loomed over the guard. He let hot, impatient breaths out between his teeth, which at once made the Electric-type look up, and stiffen up with a startled squeak.
"Y-Yes, Herr Graf! We'll see you to him right away!" the Raichu squeaked. "B-But… uh… as for your Corvisquire companion…"
"She will be attending as well given that the summons was directed to all Pokémon from my Fähnlein of Stabsofficier rank," Lacan harrumphed. "Now, are you two going to bring us along, or am I going to need to see ourselves in?"
The two guards audibly gulped, the Haxorus subconsciously shrinking back as the Raichu stepped forward and motioned for the Salamence to follow after them.
"R-Right this way, Herr Graf," the Raichu insisted. "It's just a short walk to His Majesty's quarters from here."
Finally. Lacan just hoped that the welcome they'd received wasn't a portent for how their audience with King Siegmund was going to go.
"I'll say, I wasn't expecting you to want to be tutored this move of all things."
Lyle let his eyes drift around and take in his surroundings. He was in a chamber with thick, bare concrete walls and a circular aperture where a heavy door apparently had once been. Tubes of ancient resin hanging from the ceiling that had been filled with Luminous Moss bathed the space in cool blue light. He certainly didn't expect there'd be something like this just off the street from a city street as crowded as Arsenal Avenue, perhaps it was once an armory or some sort of treasure room?
Whatever this place used to be, the Rotom and the Joltik were putting it to other purposes these days. On either end of a wooden block sitting in the center were simple, large wooden stools to sit on. Ones which in spite of their construction looked sturdy enough to hold even the likes of Sheriff Mack on them. Off on the end of the chamber opposite from the circular entrance, there were lanes in front of sandbags heaped up against the wall, along with what looked like dolls of Pokémon sitting in front of them. If they were anything like the last Move Tutor Lyle had visited, they were Substitutes, likely bought off a more enterprising Ditto judging from their sheer variety of forms.
That time, he'd been tutored Will-O-Wisp by a Porygon who ran a shop not too different from this one. It should've been a happy moment for him, especially since he was spitting fire hot enough to burn consistently in a matter of days afterwards. Except, that moment had come back in those awkward first weeks after he was thrown out of his family's home and had to turn his fellows on the Foehn Gang to take their place.
"Quilava, are you alright? You're kinda spacing out right now."
Lyle blinked and snapped back to attention to see Watt giving him a sidelong glance. Right, those two had a business to run and he and the rest of Team Forager needed to make this tutoring quick if they were going to make it to those marketplaces across the river.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he told the Joltik. "It's just that the last time I was tutored through a tay-emm, it was a bit disorienting."
"Well, it is a bit of a surprise to discover the powers that slumber within one's natural Ether," Amp explained. "But if you've already been tutored once before in this fashion, you'll probably find this session a bit easier."
… "Ether"? Lyle vaguely remembered the Porygon also mentioning something about it when he was learning Will-O-Wisp. He knew he'd heard the term for medicines like those Max Elixirs that Pokémon sometimes drank when they were feeling worn down, though one of his old comrades had explained that it was also technical jargon among Move Tutors for the energy within Pokémon that allowed him to do things like wield his fire in battle.
Maybe it'd make sense to ask Dalton after this if the two were related somehow. That had to be something that Pokémon would learn about in a university, right?
A loud crackle rang out, as Lyle briefly caught the Rotom diving into the tay-emm reader. Like out on the table outside, the device took on its orange sheen before Amp sprang it open. Except, Watt wasn't there on the wooden block anymore.
The Ghost-type floated in place for a moment, as scuttling and shuffling came from the floor. Lyle peered over the block, just in time to see Amp's Joltik assistant coming back with an orange disc in a cracked sleeve made of ancient resin with a few lines of faded runes on it. It was in a strange script he couldn't read, except it looked vaguely familiar to the strange runes they'd seen in Team Pathfinder's handbook. The Joltik set the sleeve down on the wooden block and turned his attention to four particularly large runes near its top. There was a moment of silence, before the Joltik glanced up to meet Lyle's gaze.
"You're sure you want to learn this move, right?" Watt asked. "Since if my memory serves me right, your kind normally learns this move naturally not long after evolution. I mean, the customer's always right in the end, but we can't exactly refund a move tutoring service if you're not satisfied with the result."
Lyle paused briefly and thought the matter over. Most of the tay-emms that Amp and Watt said he'd be able to pick up hadn't sounded that impressive. He supposed there was that Wild Charge tay-emm they had, but using that technique that was supposed to hurt its user in the process. He considered Brick Break for a while since it would've certainly helped in fights like the one with that damned Tyrantrum, but with his stubby Quilava arms and a fighting style he'd practiced for years that worked best bobbing and weaving away from his foes… he decided to stick with strengthening the skills he had.
After all, it wasn't like evolving was going to be some magical cure-all for his life right now…
"I'll have bigger problems to worry about after evolving than when I pick up a move or two," the Quilava grunted. "I might as well get some extra practice in while life's still less complicated."
Watt cocked a brow curiously, before Amp raised a tendril to cut him off. A faint click rang out as a metallic cord telescoped out from under the sheath of the device Amp was indwelling. Lyle blinked and stared puzzledly for a moment. He opened his mouth to ask what the cord was, before the Rotom raised a tendril and gave a brief, buzzing chirp in reply.
"As you said earlier, Watt. The customer's always right. No sense in questioning something he's got his mind set on," Amp remarked. "Though let's get right to things, Quilava. Just keep your eyes focused on the light. The tutoring process will only take a minute."
"Literally," Watt chimed in. "It takes about a minute for a tay-emm to imprint on a Pokémon's Ether and alter it. So sit tight and stay focused."
Lyle breathed in to calm himself and watched as Watt slid the disc into the reader Amp was indwelling. The Move Tutor leveled the reader out against the wooden block and gave the orange plate a tentative spin, before stopping to poke his head out from the reader's confines.
"Just try not to blink too much while it's reading," the Rotom remarked. "I assume you already had it explained to you last time, but for this process to work optimally, your eyes need to be open."
Amp slipped back into the reader as it spun to life and the tip of the cord took on a white light as it shone into Lyle's eyes. Lyle fought every urge in his body to try and close them, instead keeping his attention trained firmly into the eerie light, as it blinked and strobed.
It really was like the time he picked up Will-O-Wisp. He thought back to the day when he'd learned it, just after helping to fence their loot with Boss Gunther from one of the first jobs they'd done after getting kicked out from his home. Alvin had noticed his mood and helped spot him a few ill-gotten gains so that his stash could buy it. He insisted that "family is who looks out for you" and that there would be plenty of times for Lyle to pay things forward with his new move.
… Not that there'd be any more chances to do so. Not while Alvin was likely about to be dragged aboard some gods-forsaken ship to be deployed across the sea, if he wasn't out on the water already.
The light abruptly vanished and things went dark. Lyle pinned his ears back and blinked to adjust his eyes to the change in lighting, watching as the disc in the tay-emm reader slowed to a stop. Amp clamped the reader shut and something seemed to loosen inside as Watt was able to remove the disc smoothly out. The reader then lost its orange color as the Rotom pulled himself free and floated into the air, zipping around Lyle's head with a curious buzz.
"Well? Aren't you going to try out your new move, Quilava? Go on, light up those Substitutes over there!"
Lyle turned as Amp pointed off with a tendril at a few things that looked vaguely like dolls of various Pokémon, including one that, much to Lyle's annoyance, looked like a small, somewhat misshapen Floatzel. From the looks of how torn up the sandbags behind them were, he supposed that was one way to tell that the Rotom wasn't just some huckster who parted fools with their money.
Lyle shuffled off his seat and made his way over to a set of markers drawn onto the ground opposite the Floatzel Substitute and tried to clear his head. He thought back to when his father had helped his mother first practice Flamethrower herself. He'd said the trick behind it was a deep breath out, forceful like blowing glass for a bigger vessel like a pitcher, but with a sustained breath that kept the fire fed with air the entire time..
It sounded simple enough, except for the fact that Lyle hadn't blown through a glassblowing pipe in over three years. Still, it wasn't as if he'd completely forgotten everything he'd learned, so it at least ought to help…
There was only one way to know for sure.
Lyle sucked in a sharp breath and felt the fire in his belly dance, hotter and stronger than he'd expected it to. He curled his mouth as if he were blowing through a pipe and breathed out. At once, a brilliant column of fire spewed out from between his lips towards the Floatzel Substitute as it bowled over and began to waver and deform in the fire.
H-He was doing it! Blauflamme, he was really doing it-!"
His breath suddenly hitched and he felt his innards abruptly flare up much like times when he accidentally swallowed his Embers. The Quilava's eyes shot wide and he bowled over, coughing and wheezing as a few puffs of smoke came from his muzzle. He reared up, breathing in and out, pawing at his throat with a quiet groan as a crackling cheer alerted him to Amp approaching him from behind.
"Hey! Six seconds! Not bad at all for a first attempt!" the Rotom insisted. "The way you kept the fire coming out consistently was pretty impressive, too! Have you been practicing to learn this move?"
There was an awkward silence between the two. Lyle supposed that in a way, he had been practicing for it through the glassblowing techniques his parents taught him. Even if he didn't want to think about it too much, much less mention it to a stranger.
"No, I hadn't," he replied. "I haven't gotten a chance to train for new moves in years."
Lyle headed off past Amp and Watt, and didn't bother making eye contact as he left the circular doorway back for the dimly-lit hallway back to the shopfront. He retraced his steps through corridors lined with exposed and pitted concrete surfaces until he found himself back in the waiting room where the shopfront was. There wasn't any sign of his teammates in the room and for a moment he started to grow uneasy, only to notice as his eyes adjusted to the evening light outside that they were waiting at the bottom of the steps.
Figured. And here he was getting worried over nothing.
The Quilava shook his head and made his way out of the open doorway, coming down to the stoop of Amp's shop on all fours. His teammates turned their heads as he approached, with Kate flicking her ears with a teasing smirk.
"Took you long enough," she said. "I knew that you were a little out of things, but I thought I was the one that learned things slowly."
Lyle pinned his ears back and curled his mouth into a sharp frown. Maybe it was just the stress of the day getting to him, maybe it was the lingering discomfort from accidentally swallowing his own fire, but he didn't need to deal with this right now.
"Kate, move tutoring doesn't work that way!" he protested. "I was barely in there for five minutes! That's short for a tutoring session!"
Kate rolled her eyes in response but otherwise didn't contest the point. Lyle sighed and shook his head as he started to head off for the street, when he noticed Irune eying him with a curious tilt of her head and moving a finger up to her mouth.
"... Wait, what did everyone choose to learn anyways?"
Kate and Dalton traded glances with one another at the question. Now that Lyle thought of it, they never did tell him in advance what they planned on learning. They'd just split their money four ways and trusted each other to buy something they could afford with it.
"Psycho Cut. Duh," Kate spoke up. "I was never too good at taking a punch, so figured it'd be handy to have a move to deal with Fighting-types better."
"I opted for Rain Dance," Dalton tsked, shaking his head in reply. "It's one that I've wanted to learn for a while since it helps a number of other moves that I know."
Lyle bit his lip. Maybe he should've thought of learning something other than Flamethrower. Sure, it was a stronger move, but Kate and Dalton's both sounded like ones that would catch enemies they'd fight more off-guard. He reared up and rubbed at the back of his head, before offering up his own explanation.
"I went with Flamethrower," he added. "I know it's a bit basic, but it'd let me hit harder and be on the quicker side to get experienced with, so…"
He could already see Kate raising her brow and Dalton bringing his good hand to his chin with an unimpressed stare. He'd take that as a sign they weren't impressed with his choice.
Except, Irune hadn't said anything this entire time, and was starting to look flustered for some reason.
"Though made you so interested?" Lyle asked "Did you pick up that X-Scissor that Joltik was trying to sell you on?""
Irune hesitated for a moment, before pawing at her tusks with a quiet hem and haw.
"I… er… went with Protect."
Lyle blinked and had to make sure he was hearing things correctly. Protect? As in the same move that 'mons used to make shield formations in larger battles? But why would Irune go through the trouble of learning that all by herself? Dalton and Kate both seemed just as surprised as he was, and opened their mouths to speak.
"Aren't you a bit small to be effectively covering for anyone with that?" Kate asked. "And Protect's most effective when multiple Pokémon use it together, just saying."
"Irune, you are aware that Protect doesn't keep you from being pushed back by attacks, right?" Dalton added. "Just how hard do you think it'd be to knock a Pokémon your size around?"
The Axew shrank back and visibly opened her mouth to retort, only to catch herself. Had she chosen a move without thinking it through herself? Or else what was the story behind that reaction of hers? She seemed to trip over her words briefly, before shaking her head and giving a defensive huff in reply.
"I know that. But I'm not going to be little forever," the Dragon-type insisted. "I guess I just wanted something in case I stopped being little sooner than expected. And I figured having a way to stop a strong attack if it came down to it would be helpful for if that ever happened."
Lyle shot a sideways glance at the Axew. She was hiding something, she had to be with the way she was acting and the way she'd reacted to him coming across her diary the night before. But… what?
For that matter, why did she feel like she was on pins and needles trying to put her words together when answering them? Was she trying to avoid telling them a lie of some sort? For whatever reason, the Axew seemed like she was just unable to tell a convincing lie even if her life depended on it.
… Then did that mean that was there something she was afraid of which she wasn't telling them about?
"Gottverdammte Diebe!"
Lyle flared up with a start at the sound of a bellowing roar from down the street and watched as his teammates turned their heads and the color visibly drained from their faces. Lyle glanced over his shoulder himself and felt his eyes shrink to pins as fire began to pour out from the vents on his head and tail:
It was the Tyranitar from earlier, storming through the crowds visibly seething. The armored Rock-type leveled a claw as he neared, baring his fangs as sand billowed out from vents along his body.
"Did you really think nobody else on the street would see you stealing from me?! Give me back my money!" the Tyranitar snarled. "Do it quickly and I'll make sure there's something left for the Gendarmen to punish when I'm done sorting you out!"
Lyle froze out of fear as the Tyranitar stomped up close enough for the soldier's shadow to fall over him. He looked aside, where Kate was similarly wide-eyed, before curling her face up into a forced smile.
"J-Just saying, that could've been any Sneasel who stole from you!" Kate insisted. "It's a big city!"
Lyle fought not to throw a paw over his face. Gods, if Kate was going to try and deny things, why'd she have phrase it like that?
Lyle flinched as a weak electrical crackle rang out, and he turned to see Dalton had stepped between them as a weak arc of electricity broke off between him and the Tyranitar. The soldier's eyes abruptly widened and staggered as Lyle noticed there was a small darkened mark just past the edge of the soldier's chest plate and on his right arm. Lyle backed away uneasily as the Tyranitar growled and struggled to keep his balance as his limbs locked up,when he turned and noticed other Pokémon on the street all staring at them.
Yeah, they really needed to get out of this district.
"This way!" Dalton cried. "I know a shortcut we can use to shake him off!"
Lyle needed no further prompting and dropped to all fours before he took off running after Dalton. Kate followed along, all but dragging Irune with her as they rounded a corner and into an alleyway as the Tyranitar's shouts and those of a couple others rang out behind them. The broad, sunny avenue turned into a darkened alley where everything seemed to blur into one another. Lyle felt something whistle just overhead, and watched as a spray of stones flew just past his ears. He stumbled as his foot stepped on one of the rocks landing ahead, his legs gave out from under him as he stumbled and slammed into a plastered wall.
The Quilava desperately got back onto his feet as he heard the Tyranitar lumbering along in pursuit. He felt an icy blast of wind from just beside him and turned left to see Kate had caught up with him and was spewing an Icy Wind down the alleyway. He looked back and briefly saw the Tyranitar wasn't alone anymore and there were other figures in green armor recoiling from the chilling wind. His vents came to life in a panic and he spat up a plume of smoke before turning and running after Kate as fast as his limbs would carry him. He tore along down the alleyway, the walls and clutter all seeming to blur together until he heard a thumping noise just around a corner to the left followed by Kate's voice.
"Ah! They're over here, Lyle!"
Lyle felt a sharp tug on his scarf and skidded around the corner into a courtyard with a ramp filled with bins and sacks of trash that ran up against a dilapidated wooden grate. One of the horizontal boards looked broken at one end, with Irune and Dalton both frantically tugging at it as there was signs of some sort of darkened passage beyond the barrier. Dalton abruptly froze up and grasped at his splinted arm. Their eyes met briefly, before Dalton motioned at the loose board with a frantic pant.
"There you two are! Help us get this board off!" he cried.
Lyle froze briefly as Kate wedged her claws under the loose end of the board and pulled and the board flexed. The shouts were getting louder now. They didn't have much time, time that he wasn't sure was enough to get through these boards. Lyle bit his lip as his breaths came shallow and frantic when he noticed the end of board Dalton and Kate were tugging had chop marks on it and it was flexing more noticeably towards its midpoint. He turned his attention over to Irune, who was still hacking away at the other end of the board when it dawned on him:
"Irune! Throw your tusks at the middle of the board!" he cried.
She didn't bother to question things and hurried over, throwing a pair of blows down at the flexing wood and leaving behind a two gashes as something cracked and the plank's angle became uneven. Lyle stepped back, before lunging forward with a fiery tackle. His head hit the wood and he felt it give way as splinters and cinders danced around. He stumbled back and cradled his head as a loud clatter rang out. To his right was half the plank as Irune clambered up from the other and threw a chop of her tusk at it. The sound of splintering wood rang out as the shattered board broke and sagged to one end, leaving a visible gap in the grate. Dalton didn't bother to wait, and clambered over, slinking through the hole and tumbling over it as he hurriedly got up just as the cries in the distance started to become distinct enough to make out.
"Hurry up before they catch up with us!"
Kate was the next to make her move and vaulted through the gap with a smooth jump. Irune went next and stumbled at the top, prompting Lyle to hurry over and steady her when a loud snarl rang out from behind.
"There they are!"
He didn't even have to turn around to know it was the Tyranitar. Reshiram's Fur, how did a 'mon get over paralysis that quickly?! Lyle hurriedly shoved Irune through the hole and started to clamber through. He a loud crash cut him off along with a hail of splinters as something struck him in his rump. He fell through the hole and hit the ground facefirst as his senses briefly wavered. Lyle stumbled up and lunged ahead in a blind panic, his surroundings blurring into inky darkness. As he slowed back down from his Quick Attack, he began to see his teammates in the darkness and snatches of the world around him:
Straight tunnels, patches of pitted concrete and tile with surprisingly open chambers. While distant, he could still hear the soldiers from outside and panted tensely as Kate turned to Dalton wide-eyed.
"Scales, where on earth are we supposed to go now?"
"Down."
Lyle saw Dalton pointing off into the distance and saw there was some sort of flight of steps going down. He didn't question it and took off along with his teammates for them. They were strangely large, as if they were intended specifically for the likes of a Machoke to climb, and seemed to just keep going down without end. After what felt like an eternity, they came across a long stretch of flat ground where the four ducked into an open doorway to their right.
Lyle smothered his fire and stayed there, with nothing but the pounding of his heart and the winded breathing of his teammates to give them company in the darkness. After a few moments to regain his nerves, Lyle noticed that there were no other sounds coming from their surroundings, as he stooped down and pawed at his still-smarting rear.
"Ugh, I always knew that Grünhäuter were a pain in the ass, but I could've done without one who took it literally-"
He trailed off as the fire on his vents flickered back to life and he began to see his surroundings more clearly: it was a ruined wall that had separated wherever they were from a neighboring ruin.
"H-Huh?!"
Lyle steadied his fire and studied the wall closer and noticed it was made of a mixture of brick and concrete, a telltale sign that the ruin they'd stumbled into had been made by humans. Lyle motioned to his teammates as they retraced their steps out, saw from their footprints in the dust that they'd come from the left, and opting to continue further rightwards. The more distance they put between themselves and that soldier they robbed, the better.
The tunnel went on a ways until they came across a fork that opened into a large, open chamber to their right, with a pockmarked white glyph against a blue background made of tiles in the wall. Lyle stared blankly as Dalton looked up at the glyph before shaking his head.
"Just as I thought," he said. "It wouldn't have been my first choice for a way across the river, but we should be able to follow these tunnels past all the same. There should be a chamber where things open up just ahead."
Everyone blinked at Dalton's explanation. There was no way that one glyph said all of that… right?
"Scales, how on earth can you tell that just from a sign?" Kate demanded.
"From past experience."
Lyle decided not to question it. Especially when the alternative was turning around and marching right back into that angry Tyranitar claws. He carried along with his teammates down the tunnel and started to notice what looked like ruined frames every now and then that had tattered images within them—ancient paintings of some sort, he guessed. There was one with fragments of a strange script that had a bunch of boxes set against a blue sky which looked vaguely like the towers of Administrative District, except they were mostly blue themselves. A little further down, there was an image of what looked like a Scorbunny waving from beside a yellow loop with three blue glyphs under it. Just past it, there was another image with a pair of red comets swirling in on each other on a black background above a line of grayish-white glyphs.
Wait a minute. They'd seen that design before back in Primordial Woods. Then did that mean whoever built the ruins there also built these ones? That same design was also on Amp's tay-emm reader. Did that mean the humans that built this place built that contraption, too?
"We're here."
Lyle snapped to attention and saw that his fire was now illuminating a large, cavernous space that he couldn't see the other end of. He and his teammates stepped forward as the chamber's contents came into view. There were ancient bridges, some standing, others partly-collapsed. Here and there, he saw flights of stony steps in various states of wear and decay making their way down to a set of raised platforms between trenches.
It was like they'd come across a set of docks, except they were deep underground. If there had been any water here once, it was long gone, and there didn't seem to be a shoreline that they connected to.
Kate faltered a moment, and pinned her ears back warily. So it wasn't just him who found this place strange and off-putting right now.
"The hell is this place?" she asked.
"The Undercity. These tunnels run underground beneath most of the districts of Newangle City, including the Administrative District," the Heliolisk explained. "Nobody's really sure what they used to be used for. They're normally blocked off outside of dire circumstances such as sieges, and even in peacetime they're not fully controlled thanks to those Mystery Dungeon entrances I mentioned a while back."
The Heliolisk trailed off and looked down the length of the chamber, as he seemed to drift in his thoughts for a moment.
"When I was in university, some of my professors theorized they might have been a system of mines from before the Great Flash," he explained. "Or a system of passageways for large human machines to pass through back when Newangle City used to be a human settlement."
That must've been one hell of a mine or system of passageways or whatever this used to be for tunnels this big to be dug down here. Why, this Undercity was almost a city unto themselves! If obviously much less lively and worse for wear than the one they'd left on the surface.
Lyle flicked his ears after hearing a quiet grunt and turned to see Irune hop into one of the trenches. She gaped down its length for a moment, and Lyle followed after to try and see what she'd spotted. Perhaps her farsight had allowed her to see something, since when he checked the tunnels on either side for himself, all he could see was a deep darkness that seemed to go off into an infinite abyss.
… He wasn't sure that he liked this. Why, the only indication they weren't in a Mystery Dungeon right now was the lack of fog to indicate they were passing through Distortion. He raised his eyes and saw Irune looking back at Dalton, nervously pawing at one of her tusks as she gestured off at the tunnel entrance in the distance.
"Just how far are we supposed to go down this thing?"
"Not far at all, or at least not in the grand scheme of things," Dalton reassured. "We're just following the tunnel until we come across the next chamber of this sort to the northwest. There's another exit there that opens up on the opposite bank of the river from the Administrative District."
Huh. It wasn't quite making their way across a bridge, but that still worked out well enough. There wouldn't exactly be a picturesque sunset sky overhead, but it'd get them where they needed to, and without undue attention, to boot.
… Except, something still felt off. Dalton seemed to have a tense air about him, even as he started clambering down the platform. He'd stop and scan his surroundings, as if he were double and triple-checking for the presence of traps in a Mystery Dungeon.
"Is something wrong, Dalton?" Lyle asked. "You're a bit on-edge right now."
There was a long pause, before the Electric-type trudged forward with a quiet shake of his head.
"Just… stay on your guard," the Heliolisk insisted. "These tunnels aren't as lonely as they look."
Sophia had only heard about what the interior of Heldenschloss was like from what Lacan and others who had been inside had told her of it, which had made the journey from the gates most informative. The Haxorus and Raichu from the honor guards—Max and Raimond as she'd gathered—took her and Lacan past a set of double doors that opened out into a grand chamber which that had been furnished with gray, almost silvery tiling with white stone walls lining it along with a mural at the center with Reshiram on the left and Zekrom on the right. It was a scene depicting them locked in fierce battle above the Sundered Sea, with fire and lightning streaking across the background.
A humbling reminder to all who saw it of the power their patron goddess and her rival had wielded throughout the ages.
As they made their way deeper into the palace, Sophia quickly learned that the inhabited spaces of Dämmerungsturm weren't all that different from the ones built in the other towers of the Administrative District. They were cavernous spaces that had been built for a time when lights of glass and ancient resin kept even deep catacombs awash in light at all times of the day, and been modified through the ages to form more manageably-sized rooms. Chunks of the floors had been cut away to let in shafts of light from the windowed exterior, but even then, there were still portions where torches and lanterns had to be pressed into service to try and fill the ancient lights' absence.
The entire journey would've been fascinating were it not for the crushing atmosphere that lingered around them ever since receiving the King's summons. Just what on earth were she and Lacan supposed to say to King Siegmund? Lacan had notified Siegmund of the arrival of a secure caravan with the Dyad three days ago, and now they had nothing to show for it. She ruffled her feathers and felt her breaths coming tense and shallow.
"Keine Angst, Sophia. Es wird funktionieren, da bin ich mir sicher."ᴰ¹
Sophia felt a nudge behind her and looked up to see Lacan nosing at her. She wasn't sure how much she believed his attempt at a reassurance. She knew that Lacan's late father had apparently been an accomplished Feldmarschall₅ that King Siegmund and his own father were quite close to, but even through his helmet and mailed armor, the Salamence couldn't hide a palpable sense of unease.
"Versuche einfach, dich von den Dingen abzulenken. Was auch immer passiert, ich bin bei dir. Für immer."ᴰ²
Sophia stiffened up at his last words. It was probably a slip of the tongue of his, but those words felt eerily similar to the ones he'd told her on that awful day when she'd received the news of her parents' deaths back in her hometown. She noticed their guides pausing and looking back at them, before she shook her head and turned away with a low sigh.
"Erschrecken Sie mich nicht, indem Sie so reden, Lacan. Versuchen wir einfach sicherzustellen, dass Seine Majestät nicht in schlechterer Stimmung ist, wenn er uns um unseren Bericht bittet."ᴰ³
Really, managing His Majesty's mood was about the best they could hope for right now.
They continued on down a hall which was deep enough into the building to require illumination by lanterns. Amid the dim light, she noticed that all along the open portions of the hallway, there were paintings and tapestries hung up for display. A number of them were depictions of events from history and folklore that she'd read about in books or heard about in stories. There was the painting of the fabled construction of Angle City's walls by Klaus the Founder. There were multiple scenes of battles from past ages, with the patron goddess of the land featuring prominently in many of them…
And of course, there were the portraits, which after inspecting the labels more closely, she realized were of various monarchs from Varhyde's history. There was a towering Samurott in a flowing white royal cowl with his blades drawn for battle: Agarez the Great of House Riese, who began the tradition of cladding the Administrative District's spires and won resounding victories over Edialeigh by taking his foes unaware even as Wish and Reality made war with each other during his reign. There was a portrait of King Hogne not far away, who by a stroke of fate and parentage, closely resembled his ancestor in appearance. Hogne had the dubious distinction of being the last King of House Riese, which had been extinguished during the fabled Sack of Angle City thanks to the machinations of Edialeigh's then-King Marveni.
A sober reminder that even great glories could be undone by fate and a rain of ruinous lightning. And of the horrors that potentially awaited if their mission didn't succeed.
Sophia turned her head up just in time to see a portrait of a Gallade in a royal cowl with his arm-blades drawn and an air of pervasive self-confidence: Sansa the Godsly, the king who had built Varhyde's modern military and was said among his contemporaries to be much like the Founder himself. Sansa was a contradictory figure, whose reign was marked by both great triumphs in building institutions like Varhyde's General Staff, along with great tragedy. After all, it was under his reign that gambles he'd made to secure a lasting peace for their land fell apart in a hail of consuming thunder as the opening salvos of war with Edialeigh broke out during the reign of their Queen Maynus.
The same one which they were still struggling to conclude in the present day 70 years later, long after the two had passed away without heirs of their own to carry on their houses. There was a portrait of a Lucario in royal garb afterwards with the label 'King Baanders', and then one of an elderly-looking Mienshao. Sophia at first thought it was Siegmund's, when she noticed that something seemed to be wrong with his body and stopped in front of the portrait briefly:
There weren't any battle scars on it. Sophia double-checked the label under the portrait and blinked after seeing the runes: 'Waels Lucarios of House Baanders'.
She supposed that would explain the discrepancy—the portrait was of King Siegmund's father.
"Hrmph, I didn't expect that sort of brushwork would be in a royal portrait," Lacan scoffed. "I'm surprised that King Waels was satisfied with it as a finished product"
Perhaps there was more to the portrait that was wrong than she'd noticed. Sophia continued on with Lacan down the hallway as she stole a glance back at the late king's portrait. Waels had passed on shortly before Benzen Revolt, before the tide of war last turned to bring Edialeigh's armies back to Varhyder soil. Before thrusting the kingdom into crises that Siegmund had spent much of his early reign digging out from, including through campaigning on the battlefield himself.
The same changing of the tides that had claimed Lacan's hometown and left it a still-hobbling shell of its former self, along with both their parents, and untold comrades over the years.
Sophia shook her head and tried to push the thoughts from her mind. Every time she dwelled on them for too long, it just took her to worrisome places that made her wonder how much more she could bear. She briefly noticed the Raichu's up ahead twitching his ears when she raised her head and noticed there was some sort of noise coming from down the hall: rumbling chiming, which formed a coherent melody.
She stopped as Lacan seemed to blink in surprise for a moment, but otherwise seemed unfazed. What was going on?
"Lacan, what's that sound?"
"It's an ancient instrument made out of pipes. An 'organ', I believe it's called," he explained. "King Siegmund was fond of them even back when I was a child, so he must be listening to someone giving him a performance."
Right when he was expecting them for a summons? Sophia supposed that their arrival had been on short notice… would he be upset with them interrupting things? Strangely enough, the Haxorus and Raichu traded glances with one another, before the Dragon-type of the pair turned back with an uneasy paw at the back of his helmeted head.
"Actually… I'm pretty sure that's him playing that 'organ' thing right now," the Haxorus said. "Though the door to his chamber's waiting room just up ahead, Herr Graf."
The King was able to play a human instrument? Sophia supposed that his body's general shape as a Mienshao was supposed to be similar to the ones humans were supposed to have, but it still surprised her. What on earth did this 'organ' look like?
Lacan himself quirked a brow at the pair, as they took the last few steps up to the entrance of the King's quarters. It was a pair of doors with white and gray designs where a Beartic and Golurk in armor stood guard. Both of which sported segments that audibly rattled with the sound of mail whenever they moved, while some others appeared to be entirely made of metal. The Raichu and Haxorus hailed the pair and after a brief exchange of words, the guards opened the doors.
Sophia carried in along with Lacan and sucked in a sharp breath, unsure what she'd find on the other end. She stepped out into a spacious chamber that was aglow with the warm tones of candlelit lanterns. In front of them was a low table set out ringed by white cushions, along with a few bookshelves set up against the walls, lit up by a wall of tall, striplike glass letting the last rays of sunlight filter through them.
The floors and walls were covered with wood and stone paneling and flooring built over the ancient steel and concrete underneath. Why, it reminded her more of the stories Lacan had told her when they were younger of what his parents' manor in Port Velhen used to be like than a human ruin over a thousand years old.
She supposed that the emphasis on white and gray didn't hurt that feeling either. After all, this palace had originally been built for Varhyde's Heroes and not its kings. And it was a reminder to all who entered this place that it was the quarters of Pokémon whose duty was to pursue and long after the same truths as her patron goddess.
She peered out past the windows as she and Lacan neared the table and its cushions and saw that a wooden balcony had been built out onto the exterior. Based on its construction, it appeared to be a much more recent addition to the ancient structure that had fashioned by Pokémon. Perhaps it was a perch of some sort? King Siegmund surely couldn't fly, but such a vantage point would give him a commanding view of his kingdom, or else the stars and auroras of the night sky.
Sophia fidgeted her wings and looked over at her Salamence companion. He looked impatient, and moved his tail back and forth as he frowned at their Raichu and Haxorus guides.
"We were told the king wished to see us immediately," he said. "Is there a reason in particular why you're not taking us directly to him?"
"Max and I will inform His Majesty of your presence, Herr Graf," the Raichu insisted. "Just… please just wait here patiently. There's been a lot on the King's mind lately and I don't know how he'll react if you go about rooting about his quarters."
Sophia uncomfortably ruffled his feathers. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign for what their summons was going to be like. Lacan raised a brow, before settling on a set of cushions by the table with a low grumble.
"Fine," he grunted. "Just don't keep us waiting long. I doubt His Majesty summoned us to idle about in his quarters."
The two guards saluted and slipped out of the room and past a doorway to the left. Lacan hung his head, pawing at his snout with a forepaw with a low sigh. Sophia supposed that with the news they had to bring before King Siegmund being… unenviable, that it'd be best to avoid imposing himself if at all possible. Even so, she couldn't help but be curious…
"How do you know King Siegmund so well, Lacan?"
"He was a benefactor of mine while I was living in Errberk Village, so I've seen him a bit more often than a Pokémon of my station normally would," the Salamence explained. "He and my father knew each other in life, and I suppose he just wasn't comfortable seeing the child of a close friend of his fall through the cracks."
Lacan trailed off, before hanging his head with a low sigh.
"I just don't know how much that will be on his mind today," he said. "I'm not the helpless child I used to be, and I can't imagine that the King doesn't have higher expectations of me now."
Sophia supposed that it would only make sense. Prior to them winding up on Fähnlein Stärke, Lacan had already built up a fairly impressive string of accomplishments in battle as an Oberst. To the point where he had been brevetted as a General in his last campaign before that wing injury sent him home.
Sophia wasn't sure how either of them would be able to give the King a satisfying explanation. Four days after finally having the great hope of Varhyde in their grasp after a year of pursuit, and they were really supposed to tell him that they'd lost her to an Outlaw raid of all things? And that was before getting into some of the more concerning reports that their colleagues had turned up from Errberk Village:
The Dyad's elements were beginning to manifest more frequently. And as such, it meant that the window of opportunity for fielding her as part of Operation Spark was closing—far quicker than her, Lacan, or anyone involved in Operation Spark's planning had expected.
She knew not what would become if that window closed before they were deployed for Operation Spark, but she prayed that they never had to find out.
Sophia turned her head when she noticed that the rumbling, chiming music was still playing in the background. Across the table, Lacan looked about the chamber uneasily, before rising to his feet and shuffling forward with a low grunt.
"Hrmph, how long does it take those two to inform the King of our arrival?" he murmured.
Sophia turned her head as Lacan made his way over to the door. She got up, only for him to put a claw on the door.
"Stay here, I'll handle it," he said. "And if the King isn't in a good mood… well, it'd be better for a familiar face to try and ease him out of things."
Sophia paused and shot a worried glance over. The Salamence seemed to carry an uneasy aura about him. Was it really wise to just let him continue on?
"Lacan, are you sure that will be okay?"
"I'll be fine, I'm sure of it," he said.
The Salamence pushed the door open and stepped in. Sophia briefly heard voices on the other end before the door closed shut after his tail. The music trailed off and abruptly stopped as voices faintly carried on through the walls.
Sophia sat and fidgeted in place uncomfortably only to notice that the voices were louder than she expected. She noticed that the door to the King's chamber was ajar. It was the height of foolishness, but what if Lacan was in trouble right now? Didn't he deserve to have an advocate by his side?
She got up and quietly made her way towards the door, creeping over as she began to make out the voices coming from within more clearly.
"... I wasn't aware you had an organ in your quarters, Your Majesty," Lacan said. "Let alone that you'd become so proficient at playing it."
"It's the same relic I used to play at the Royal Reliquary," an elderly, yipping voice remarked. "I merely had it moved to my quarters so that I could use it easier."
All of a sudden, a gust of wind came from within and blew the door out. It struck Sophia in the side of her beak, prompting her to hop back with a startled caw.
And then the second voice spoke up again.
"Whoever's out there, if you are going to eavesdrop you might as well come in and show yourself."
Sophia grimaced and set her beak on edge before falteringly pulling the door open. She came across a room that had a large bed set out—One with a proper mattress and white sheets. To her right were more of those strip-like windows with the balcony running past, left open to let in light along with the wind that had given her away. Furniture and decorations hugged the walls: a dresser, a table with a mirror with a portrait of a vaguely melancholy Incineroar in a white cape.
Gods above, she thought that she'd been listening in on a parlor of some sort, not the King's sleeping quarters! She grudgingly turned off to his left where there were Lacan and their guards, along with the form of an elderly Mienshao in a white cape seated on a wooden bench. Behind him was some manner of metal contraption with pipes that stuck upwards and a set of appeared to be white and black levers, along with a small wooden obelisk with a metal rod that stood up in its center.
Sights which would've been fascinating to behold were the King of the whole realm not staring her down with a stern frown. She noticed that Lacan's face looked visibly pale, as he stepped out before the Mienshao and bowed his head with a flustered stammer.
"E-Eure Majestät, verzeihen Sie die Indiskretion meines Untergebenen. Es gehört zu ihrern Aufgaben Informationen zu sammeln und-"ᴰ⁴
"Let's not stand on ceremony, Graf. These are serious matters which are best discussed in frank language," the Mienshao said. "Your subordinate carried out her duties by heeding my summons. Even if it'd have been more convenient to have received earlier notice of your arrivals."
Sophia blinked and watched as Fighting-type's stern gaze turned towards Raichu and Haxorus guards. The pair noticed the Mienshao's expression, before letting out startled yelps.
"W-We insisted that they wait for you in your waiting room," the Haxorus said, nervously pawing at his chest plate. "But-"
"Enough," the Mienshao said, motioning for a stop with an arm covered in sleeve-like wisps of fur. "My summons have been fulfilled, even if it was not fully in the fashion that I wished. Herr Maxax₆, Herr Raichu, you two are dismissed. We'll have more to discuss about your performances later."
The two guards looked back at the Mienshao king, before hurriedly saluting, paws out and then drawn towards their hearts, before taking their leave from the quarters. She could hardly fault their reactions. Siegmund had a reputation for being slow to anger, but ruthless when stirred to parcel out retribution, and the guards were clearly keen on leaving while they were in they were still in his good graces.
Sophia froze as the Mienshao approached her with a skeptical gaze as Lacan quietly made his way beside her. Siegmund shot an askew glance between her and the Salamence, before speaking up.
"So this is that Oberstleutnant of yours whom you spoke of, Graf Lacan," he said. "I'll admit, I was expecting someone a bit more… experienced-looking."
Sophia hurriedly saluted and sucked in a sharp breath as the Mienshao looked at her. Lacan seemed to be fumbling with his words as Siegmund cut him off with a low grunt and folded his arms.
"... I gathered from your lack of communications that the Dyad managed to escape during transport," he said. "Is she still well at the moment?"
"She is. Or at least she was as of at least four hours ago, Your Majesty," Sophia said. "We had been following her trail and it led us here."
"... Into Newangle City?"
"Your Majesty, I realize that it sounds… improbable, to say the least," Lacan answered. "We did indeed track the Dyad through the East Gate of the capital.
There was a long, lingering silence between the three of them. Sophia studied Siegmund's expression to try and gauge his mood, but his expression remained guarded and hard to place. The Fighting-type looked over at Lacan, before narrowing his eyes briefly and giving a sighing shake of his head
"I'm afraid that I must ask you to remain patient with me a bit longer, Frau Kranoviz," he said. "There are some matters which I need to discuss with your superior on a personal basis."
That did not sound remotely promising. Why was the King being so evasive? Was Lacan in trouble right now? Sophia jolted upright, before raising a wing in stammering interjection.
"I-If it's something involving the needs of our mission, surely I-"
"Will be able to discuss those matters at length. Afterwards," Siegmund replied. "I would kindly ask you to keep your curiosity in check this time. I'm sure Graf Lacan will inform you of whatever he deems necessary for your mission to succeed."
She wasn't sure what to make of the King's tone. It sounded understanding at least, but it gave a distinct impression that he was warning her somehow. Sophia lowered her wing and glanced over at Lacan. He seemed to be at a loss for what was going on himself, but at the very least King Siegmund still expected them to return to their mission after this?
"Frau Kranoviz, I don't mean to be impatient, but would you kindly take your leave?"
Sophia looked up to see the Mienshao king giving a frowning glance at her. She ruffled her feathers and turned for the door, briefly glimpsing as the Mienshao made his way for a door to a wooden balcony and motioned with his paw at Lacan to follow.
"It has been a while since we last met, Graf," the Fighting-type said. "We have much to discuss, and we might as well do so someplace with more space."
Sophia couldn't help but feel a lingering unease about her as she drifted out the door of the King's quarters and let it close behind her.
Just what were the two going to talk about, and why didn't the King want her to know about it?
Author's Notes
Words and Phrases:
1. Agarezpalast - "Agarez's Palace"
2. Heldenschloss - "Heroes' Palace/(Unfortified) Castle"
3. Kaplan - "chaplain"
4. im Generalstab - "on the General Staff", a traditional appending to the rank of a military officer with membership in such a body in a Germanosphere army, especially in Prussia.
5. Feldmarschall - Abbreviated form of "Generalfeldmarschall", or "General Field Marshal". Historically one of the highest ranks attainable in a Germanosphere army.
6. Maxax - "Haxorus"
Dialogue:
D1. "Keine Angst, Sophia. Es wird funktionieren, da bin ich mir sicher." - "Don't worry, Sophia. Things will work out, I'm sure of it."
D2. "Versuche einfach, dich von den Dingen abzulenken. Was auch immer passiert, ich bin bei dir. Für immer." - "Just try and take your mind off of things. Whatever happens, I'm with you. Forever."
D3. "Erschrecken Sie mich nicht, indem Sie so reden, Lacan. Versuchen wir einfach sicherzustellen, dass Seine Majestät nicht in schlechterer Stimmung ist, wenn er uns um unseren Bericht bittet." - "Don't scare me by talking like that, Lacan. Let's just try and ensure that His Majesty isn't in a worse mood when he asks us for our report."
D4. "E-Eure Majestät, verzeihen Sie die Indiskretion meines Untergebenen. Es gehört zu ihrern Aufgaben Informationen zu sammeln und-" - "Y-Your Majesty, forgive my subordinate's indiscretion. It's a part of her duties to gather information and-"
Teaser Text - Special Thanks to TorchicBellow for Translation:
Newangle City, 15. Herbstmond, 1027 n. d. B.
To whom it may concern,
By royal decree of King Siegmund von Wahrheit, the recipient of this letter is hereby ordered to instruct all subordinates under their command to stand by for the arrival of any parties from Fähnlein Stärke of His Majesty's army and to relay news of their arrival at once to His Majesty and His Generalstab.
Any representatives of Fähnlein Stärke from enlisted ranks are to be kept at the gates and notice served to His Majesty's Generalstab to dispatch an emissary to meet them and review any news and findings in a secure environment. Should a representative of Stabsoffizier rank appear at your gates, you are to direct him or her to appear before His Highness for a royal audience effective immediately at his residence in Heldenschloss.
You are to defer to whatever requests those representatives may ask of you upon your arrival not pertaining to their summons. Their affairs of Fähnlein Stärke pertain to matters regarding the security of the realm and its war effort, and should be assumed to have His Majesty's blessing.
Any attempts to impede His Majesty's decree will be grounds for being treated as insubordination against the Royal Army and punished accordingly.
- Urgent dispatch from König von Wahrheit, Siegmund Wieshus relayed to the Wehrturm Captainsᵃ of the Newangle City Walls
a. Rendered in combined form in the original text, which is common practice for word formation in German.