Chapter 12: Loose Lips

As Team Traveller treated their wounds from their battle with the Frillish, Hatteras was walking about the main square back in town. He had shelved his red and white Guildmaster scarf that day in favor of something a bit more mayoral while he surveyed repairs that were going on.

A Togetic tailor was operating under an awning. As Pokémon carted in pieces of lumber to slowly rebuild the interior of a freshly constructed frame, he engaged in an idle conversation with the Starmie that owned the similarly-obliterated Appraisal Shop on the docks, wondering if hiding discount vouchers in chests in the Mystery Dungeon might encourage more business from the guild.

Over at Calino's stall, the Kecleon was engaged in a heated negotiation with the Honchkrow that owned the local bank. Apparently Hess's underlings had made off with a sizable quantity of Poké- or "merchants' scrip" as the Honchkrow called it, to Calino's annoyance- from the vaults. Calino's off-island associates reimbursed a healthy part of such losses in return for Pokémon like the banker maintaining reserves in Poké, and the crow felt it proper for that portion to cover most of the purloined money. Hatteras privately hoped that the two could come to an agreement without requiring his adjudication. Economics was always such a dry subject, and had a worrisome tendency to bring out unfavorable sides of Pokémon.

A little further up, Hatteras saw a familiar Sceptile with a lavender headband seated on a stool in a wood-floored juice bar. The wooden hut that housed it sat beside a glassblowing shop run by a Magmar that insisted that the strong drinks served just next door were an aid to his craft and not just a fire hazard. The town's arboreal captain of the guard lazily toyed with a chewing twig in the shade, taking a break from guarding, it seemed. The Ampharos turned and entered the establishment, rebuilt recently enough to not to have the sights and accompanying smells of many rowdy and well-used nights yet.

"Oh? Not loafing around on the job are you now, Osmund?" Hatteras asked as his eyes adjusted to the shade of the juice bar.

"Heh, heh, as the Pokémon who gave me this job you oughta know me better than that, Hatteras!" Osmund answered. "I might play a little loose according to the Company's standards, but even I've got better things to do than while my time away in an empty juice bar."

As the Sceptile observed, there really were no customers at the low tables around the establishment. Before Hatteras could ask what his captain of the guard was doing here, Osmund spoke up.

"I'm doing rounds, checking up on the Pokémon you had fill those community service positions," he explained. The green lizard then gestured at a Sableye who was lazily cleaning the floor with a brush and crude wooden pan by some empty tables. "Hoy, tenderfoot! I hope you don't keep the barkeep waiting like this! It's a slow day, there's juice on the counter, and I've been waiting ten minutes for it!"

"Hey, cool it!" the imp snapped back. "The old windbag's picking up inventory right now and I'm juggling her brat's clea-!"

Before the Sableye could continue, though, he became acutely aware just who the two customers in the juice bar were and flushed pale.

"G-Gih!" the creature squeaked, dropping the brush and pan. "I mean- I guess I could-!"

"Actually, make it two," Hatteras added. "I'll take one of whatever he's having."

The Sableye darted over to the counter, hastily poured juice from a pitcher into a second cup, and rushed back to the table.

"Two Rawsts with honey! S-Sorry about the wait! I'm still getting used to this, h-honest!" he stammered, before darting away from the table and returning to his work cleaning. The Sableye's motions had a bit more vigor to them now, in what was an obvious and transparent attempt to secure some peace. Even so, Hatteras found some small positive sign from the purple creature's behavior.

"Well, you can't say they haven't been learning their manners towards authority figures, can you?" Hatteras chuckled as he took a sip from his cup.

"Mmph, Mirlia needs to get him to put some more work into that 'service with a smile' part… but that's not new," the Sceptile replied.

"So, I take it reconstruction's been going well? With all the Pokémon going about the square today, you'd think that all of the shops have already reopened!" Hatteras cheered.

"Well… well enough to be able to get a drink," Osmund sighed before taking a swig from his cup. "Mirlia and Minia got this place open up quickly enough, but my preferred haunt's still out from fire damage at the moment."

"So, has there been any word about when they'll-?"

"Mrph. I'm afraid I can't help you there, Hatteras," the Sceptile said, shaking his head. "If there was word, I'd have heard it. I'm supposed to be the 'mon who hears things first through the Grepa bush from the rest of the Company, hierarchal structure and all. What I have been able to get from them about how on earth this raid even happened was that they'd 'come to make an assessment soon'."

"I was afraid of that, actually," Hatteras said, putting a paw over his brow. "Did they at least give any ideas as to how soon-?"

"E-Eh?!" a Kangaskhan's voice from outside cried out.

"M-Mom? Why are they here already?" a younger voice added, its softer tone full of apprehension and dread.

"Mirlia sure came back soon, but I wonder what's going-?" Hatteras began to ask as jewel-eyed creature went up to the juice bar's entrance. The Pokémon carried on past an apprehensive Kangaskhan attempting to reassure her child and looked towards the harbor...

And promptly went slack-jawed.

"Oh great, just what I needed to get stuck here on this island in time for," he muttered.

Hatteras and Osmund got up from their table at once and walked over to the gawking barkeep and her help. To their dismay, they, along with everyone else on the path, saw a ship sidling up to one of the harbor's docks. A ship that flew lavender sails bearing an emblem made of violet squares.

"Sooner than I expected, it looks like," Osmund muttered.


A bit later, Team Sawtooth found themselves pacing down a narrow, winding passage on the third floor of Tromba's Mystery Dungeon. The group was lead by Alto, who every so often stopped and listened for something further down the path.

"I'm telling you guys, I heard them this way!" the Loudred insisted.

"Ugh, couldn't you have picked a less cramped way to get there?" Cardellini grumbled. Croconaw weren't meant to have their tails rub up against cave walls with every turn in a corridor, after all.

"It would be nice to be able to fly without running into something right now," Kiran added.

"If we get ambushed, you won't be doing us any favors for being able to fight effectively," Pitys sighed. As the Shiftry kept watch over the portion of the corridor behind her, Kiran stopped and pressed his badge with his wing.

"Pataki, you're sure this passage leads to the stairs and the kids, right?" the Swellow spoke to the bauble.

"Do you want to try to scan the floor in my place?" Pataki's voice snapped back in the four Pokémon's minds.

"Ya, ya! Entiendo!" Kiran squawked, before he gave an apologetic sigh. "I'm… just a little on-edge. You said earlier the kids got into a scuffle, and I'm concerned that they're not taking care of them-"

"-a ha! And you said I couldn't be a good healer!" a voice carried on from down the passage.

"-f you're so great, why'd you ask for Crom to heal you back at the Dojo, then?"

"-selves," Kiran murmured before dropping his wing from his badge.

"They sound pretty healthy to me," Alto said as he rounded a corner. "And I think this must be their chamber!"

Kiran and his temporary teammates carefully followed Alto, plumbing down another narrow corridor into an unremarkable, straightforward chamber. The stairs lay directly in front of them, and the four other members of Team Traveler were resting on the other side..

"Hey!" Kiran cried out, immediately drawing the attention of the four rookies.

"Took you long enough!" Elty barked. Now that he had some more room, Kiran took wing and flapped over to the four younger Pokémon. The Swellow settled down and ruffled his feathers, his calm similarly perturbed as he anxiously asked his teammates:

"The floor wasn't too hard on you, was it?"

"Yeah, we ran into this really upset 'Frillish' thing earlier!" Pleo chirped. "But we defeated her! We even found a 'Slow Orb' afterwards!"

"Yeah! Check it out!" Crom cried. The Druddigon thrust his claws into the team bag and, after a little rummaging, fished out an olive sphere and proudly showed it off. The Swellow stopped and blinked at the group.

Perhaps it was the effects of the Oran Berries they used coming in, but Team Traveller seemed far less beleaguered than Kiran had dreaded. Yes, they still had a few obvious scuffs and nicks here and there, but there seemed to be a confidence and determination that etched itself across the team's faces. Why, even Elty seemed to have a little bit of the same spark in him!

No, there was something more to this than some temporary berry effect, and the Pokémon from Team Sawtooth seemed to notice it, too.

"It looks like they've been taking care of themselves pretty good for rookies, Kiran," Pitys reassured.

"Yeah, they take after their captain pretty good, it seems!" Alto chimed in.

The Swellow paused and, after puffing out his feathers a bit with a hint of pride, finally spoke up.

"Well, what can I say?" he chirped in satisfaction. "Why, when you get your fundamentals down, everything else just follows!"


Back in Bluewhorl, the atmosphere was far less cheery as the Company ship docked. Hatteras breathed a quiet sigh of gratitude to the gods for the ship being smaller and less imposing than he had dreaded- and more importantly, for Pleo being far away right now. Far from the eyes of the Pokémon accompanying the unwelcome ship that day.

"At least it's one of their smaller ships this time. I don't think they'll be able to take much from this town today."

"How much they'd take wasn't my biggest concern," Hatteras replied. "Get some of your subordinates handy, they'll need a welcoming committee to keep them in line."

Osmund gave a nod and ducked off down the path after hastily leaving some Poké on the counter, leaving Hatteras to walk towards the docks on his own. As he drew nearer, he saw some of the Pokémon at the harbor dart away after seeing the ship dock. Some sea Pokémon and fliers perched around their chosen docks, all of them wearing lavender scarves bearing a violet square pattern simpler than the ship's sails. The creatures maintained gruff and inhospitable attitudes with any locals unfortunate enough to be near them; every low growl and snarl was aimed to consciously remind the hapless residents that this was their town as long as they were in port. As Hatteras drew near he heard apprehensive whispers circulate among the townsfolk.

"The Company's already come?"

"But they're not supposed to be here until after the next wet season!"

"Mommy, are the mean Pokémon going to root through our stuff again?"

He walked up the dock, towards some Pokémon that had disembarked from the ship and were waiting around a Mothim with. Hatteras looked back just in time to see Osmund making his way up along with some hastily called-up guards, and then turned back to the Mothim. The Bug-type wore a lavender scarf with a purple design consisting of four small squares that laid on top of the corners of a larger square that connected them all.

"I was expecting bit more from a collection agent," Hatteras murmured.

"I'm a notary thank you very much," the Mothim snapped back with an icy leer.

"Then note this," a Granbull among the guards Osmund called up growled. "We don't want you around here any more than you have to be!"

"Yeah, take your boat and push off already!" snapped a Mawile that Team Traveler might have recognized were they there. The outbursts drew growls and glares from the Pokémon with lavender scarves, but strangely enough, the Mothim seemed unmoved.

"Really now... 'Osmund', is it? You ought to do more to keep your ranks in check," the bug lectured as he flitted about nonchalantly, before his eyes glowed and he flicked one of his arms down. The gesture pulled the Mawile's headband over his face with an unseen force. The strip of cloth unfurled, revealing itself to be a scrunched-up lavender scarf with a violet square much like the ones the Mothim's lackeys wore.

"Ah!" the Mawile cried out, as he hastily tried to redo his headband, backpedaling nervously from this moth that was far less frail than appearances indicated.

"It's so unbecoming to air private disputes in public, don't you think?" the fluttering moth asked the Sceptile. "Especially when such disputes involve insubordination by upstarts who don't know their place in the hierarchy."

"Grr… You're new to this circuit," Osmund glowered back. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"The name is Ellsberg. As for why I'm here..." the Mothim replied. "I believe that it was you that shot those distress flares off. You needed help to fend off an assault, yes? A ship captained by an Aggron, I believe?"

"That was a week ago!" the Sceptile blurted out in frustration.

"And the closest spotters had a bit of ship trouble a week ago. Really now," Ellsberg chided. "As much as we dislike the present arrangement here, we don't stoop that-"

"Ahem, but given the… delicacy of these details, might I suggest that we continue this over something more relaxed?" Hatteras proposed. "Osmund and I were just in the middle of drinks when you pulled into port."

"That's fine by me," the Mothim replied, as he began to motion to the lavender-scarved Pokémon with him to come along. "After all, I did not come to this hamlet thinking there would be much that worth bothering with to begin with."

"Keep your lackeys on the docks," Osmund brusquely interrupted. Which caused the Pokémon that had come with the ship to trade skeptical looks with each other and mumble snide comments about 'these bumpkins' and the like. The Mothim however, called for quiet before he turned back to the Sceptile.

"Hrmph, I see that you're as eager as I heard to kowtow to native sensibilities, Osmund," the creature sneered. "But very well, I'm sure that you know as well as I do what ramifications there will be for your position in the Company and this town's arrangement if any harm comes to me."

"We're both aware, yes," Hatteras replied. "Now, I believe we had drinks to get to?"

The Ampharos led the Mothim back along the path, Osmund following close behind the flitting bug all the way back to the juice bar. The Mothim for his part seemed utterly unconcerned with the hostile and apprehensive stares from the locals, or, if anything, pleased by them.

As soon as the Mothim came into the juice bar, which now had Mirlia and her daughter Minia working behind the counter, a pall instantly fell over the three Pokémon in the room. The Sableye, keenly aware of the additional customer who had come into the shop, quietly busied himself with cleaning and avoided eye contact.

"Uhm… Guildmaster Hatteras-?" the Kangaskhan asked, as she uneasily eyed the flitting bug while her child ducked behind her for shelter.

"You there! You juice berries don't you?" the Mothim barked. "I'll take a Charti smoothie with a hint of mint."

"R-Right away!" Mirlia stammered, as she hastily set about juicing Charti Berries for the Mothim's drink. All the while, her daughter nervously scanned some shelves for the mint the Mothim had requested, ultimately producing some green leaves. Before too long, the berries were reduced into a yellow, pulpy fluid in a cup with the mint crushed into a fine crumble along the top. With the drink done, Mirlia brought the juice over to the Mothim's table, her eyes betraying an uneasy reluctance and Minia shivering in her pouch all the while. Osmund mouthed some words of encouragement to the younger Kangaskhan and gave a few misshapen coins to cover the drink, which was met with an unimpressed buzz.

"You shouldn't be so charitable, Osmund!" the Mothim admonished as he extended a proboscis down into his drink. "I was merely asking for a mere pittance in return for what the Company does for this town."

"Hrmph, really now?" Hatteras asked gruffly. "Over the past week, I can't say that anyone in this town has been satisfied with these… 'Services'."

"Ellsberg, these Pokémon work themselves to the bone to pay for their town's defense after every harvest!" Osmund huffed. "If we guards can't so much as count on the rest of the Company to help stop a few boats, then what on earth is that take that gets sent off of the island being used for?"

"Resources are scarcer in our age, Osmund. I suppose back in the days when the capital and the rest of Conntow wasn't a barren ruin... Before the throne had the gall to try and end our emergency regency after everything happened... To think that they also demanded direct administration of the Colonies on top of that! After the calamity they caused!" the Mothim lectured in between sips of his drink. "I suppose back then, we might be able to do more."

"But that was then. The Company has a third of the former realm to work with right now. The rest is under the control of the so-called 'rightful heirs' to the Empire. And then there's those places that are now ungovernable due to strategic difficulties," the bug continued, pushing aside his drink for a moment. "Is it really so unreasonable to think that a couple pirates might slip through the cracks? They were also a problem in the olden days, you know."

"This town paid less after each harvest in those days and got more in return! And pirates in those days laid in wait for travelers in out in far corners of the sea! They didn't storm into port!" Hatteras fumed back indignantly. "Don't lecture me on history you weren't alive for!"

"And back in those days, the residents of this hamlet didn't suddenly become experts in the tax code with each revision! And we had an Administrator that lived here instead of performing his duties in absentia! Or do you not remember that your island maintains a particular 'understanding' with the Company?" the Mothim asked the Ampharos accusingly. "One that a certain Dragonite would love to see reversed were it not for you, a couple of your friends, and one 'Dragon Buster'?"

"I fail to see how that relates to us not getting our tribute's worth!" Hatteras snapped.

"You're evading the question," Osmund growled.

"Please, Osmund, interrupting is so rude. Look, Guildmaster… Hatterby, was it?" the Mothim asked as he finished off his drink, retracted his proboscis and began fluttering about. "We in the Company are in a delicate position; there is only so much that we can do for all of our holdings. But you should be mindful that you are in a position that even we don't envy."

"Tell me, where would this island be without our help? Would it stop those boats that give you such grief any better? Would it make your ability to rule this island as you see fit any stronger in the long run?" the Mothim asked as he flew about, getting closer and closer to Hatteras with each question. "And most importantly, do you think that it would keep us from taking this rock back?"

"Yes it would!" a voice from the counter protested. "Pleo would protect us!"

All heads in the juice bar turned, and trained themselves on Minia, who was now shrinking back after becoming ever more aware that everyone was now staring at her.

"Who now?" the Mothim asked, his eyes boring into an increasingly unnerved-looking Minia who was shrinking back into her mother's pouch.

"Aherm… Never mind her," Mirlia hastily tried to excuse her child. "She must have helped herself to some of my mixes while I wasn't looking."

"I don't suppose that you would know anything about this, Hatterby?" the Mothim demanded as he turned back to the Ampharos.

"It's Hatteras, and what can I say? Children these days are easily impressionable," Hatteras answered flatly. "She must have remembered a particularly memorable traveler that passed through."

"Hmm… Is that so, Osmund?" Ellsberg asked, turning to the Sceptile. "I do hope you know better than to conceal the truth from someone whose job is to verify it."

There was a long, tense pause. The Sceptile couldn't risk giving a straight fabrication to the Mothim. Perhaps his command over psychic abilities was limited to party tricks such as pulling down his subordinates' headbands as he did earlier, but if it wasn't

Tromba would quickly find itself with a new captain of the guard- one that might not be anywhere near as concerned with its welfare as he was.

Then… perhaps it was best to just tell the truth.

"Pleo is a stranger to this town who fought tooth and nail to defend it in last week's raid," Osmund answered. "He was brought here by chance, and he's since gone out of town."

In a manner of speaking, of course.

"Hm… So a traveling warrior, like a few of the so-called 'Immortals'. How quaint," Ellsberg murmured as he began to flit towards the door. "Well, I think I've seen enough. And I don't see any need to change the quota for the next collection."

"What?!" Hatteras cried out.

"Are you blind?!" Osmund exclaimed. "Did you not see all of the damage on your way in?!"

"I saw plenty of damage… To the town. The tribute we collect from this island is primarily crops, there should be no problem in meeting the quota that we need specifically. As for me, my business here is done. I'll be returning to my ship and resting my wings a bit as it sets sail," Ellsberg answered, giving a cold, unmoving stare back at the Ampharos and the Sceptile.

"We'll keep an eye out for that Aggron though. I'm sure that such a big Pokémon will turn up eventually."

The Mothim flitted towards the door, but before he left, he turned to the counter, where he addressed Mirlia and her daughter.

"I would encourage you to keep your child's fantasies in line," the moth lectured sternly, gesturing at Minia. "This is the real world, where strength talks and lofty idealism makes Pokémon into prey for others."

The Mothim then left, leaving the young Kangaskhan to duck and shiver in her mother's pouch as Mirlia tried to reassure the poor creature.

"It's okay, he's gone now," she said, patting her daughter to try and comfort her as much as she was trying to comfort herself.

"What a creep," the Sableye spat, looking up from his overeager busywork and breathing a sigh of relief.

"I'll send him off, Hatteras," Osmund sighed. "I'm sure you have some work to be getting back to, especially after hearing that. I just hope that I can last the rest of the day without a stiff drink after this."

The two bade their farewells and parted, Hatteras heading back up the path in the direction of the Guild Hall, and Osmund towards the dock. Along the way, the Sceptile saw Ellsberg paused in the path, looking down at something that he had picked up off of the well-trodden ground.

"Oi! What's taking you so long?" Osmund barked. The noise prompted Ellsberg to quickly slip away whatever it was he had found in the square- probably some dropped Poké considering Company types- before he turned back.

"Hrmph! I just needed a moment to rest!" the Mothim fumed, before he swiftly flew on towards the lavender-sailed ship and barked at his subordinates..

"Get everyone aboard and raise the plank, we don't have any more business here!"

The Pokémon murmured among themselves, some of the locals making disparaging comments wishing the Company ship a stormy travel home. As the others got distracted by the boat preparing to set off, the Mothim fished out the little article he was so keen to hide from Osmund. One that he was surprised that none of the local rubes had seen him take.

It was a silvery-white feather that had split at its top, and it proved that in spite of his doubts, this hamlet indeed had something worth bothering with for the Company.


"You know, you actually fought pretty well back there. Aside from the whole 'waiting behind without telling us about it' part," Nida's voice rang out in the maze under Tromba's peaks, with nothing echoing back.

Not that there was anything that could echo back. The distortion had wrapped the fourth floor into a concave sphere and stripped away where the ceiling would be on most floors. In its place, was a space composed of pools, stone paths and towering walls. Thanks to the dim light of the glowing algae that grew in clumps here and there in the dungeon, one could see the entire other half of the floor from any one location.

The team had stopped seeing the stairs overhead three chambers ago, and were currently resting in a spacious open-topped chamber. Every now and then, they would look back up as they tried to make sense of a rude map of streaks from a piece of charcoal on a scrap of paper (the backside being kept clean, just in case they needed to scribble a distress message on it) that Crom had doodled after first coming down the stairs. The flight to the next floor was somewhere in this one, all that was left was to find it. And wait.

"What? I'm not that bad at fighting!" Elty objected as he trotted along.

"But we were able to defeat you once!" Pleo insisted, as he looked about for the surprisingly elusive stairs.

"That's because you ganged up on me!" Elty growled.

That was to be expected, Pleo guessed. Every time he pressed about how the Growlithe never seemed to hold up against the team, 'ganging up' or some variation thereof was usually the excuse. But even so, Elty seemed to have some talent… which beggared the question...

"Wait, what did you use to do back when you were a pirate, Elty?" he asked.

"Oh, me?" Elty asked. "I was a ship-burner."

The admission brought the procession to a sudden, dead halt, as Crom turned and whirled towards the Growlithe.

"You were a what?!" the Druddigon cried out, his eyes widening in shock.

"You know, set ships on fire. Keep the other crew busy putting it out," Elty nonchalantly replied. "Normal stuff."

"Wait… That's normal?" Pleo asked, putting a wing to his beak as he took keen note of Crom and Nida's startled expressions.

In a matter of speaking, it was indeed 'normal' stuff… except for the fact that putting out a fire on a ship was a dangerous, convoluted ordeal for any crew unfortunate enough suffer through one. Too little water spent fighting it off or simply not applying it in time to keep particularly flammable cargo from burning would doom the ship to becoming a collection of cinders… and too much would weigh down the craft and send it below the waves.

"That's awful!" Crom roared, his mind turning to his own father and the ship that he worked on. "Setting a fire's one of the worst things you can do to a ship!"

"Elty, seriously, how do you sleep at night?" Nida spat in disgust as she bristled her barbs.

"Hey! Get off my case! It wasn't that bad!" Elty huffed defensively. "The only ship that ever got sunk thanks to our fire was a hulk full of fajerwerki at a dock!"

There was a long, blinking silence. Ship-burning was supposed to put other Pokémon in mortal danger, but that explanation... just didn't quite fit expectations.

"Wait… What?" Crom asked.

"Um… Maybe you're overstating ship-burner a bit much?" Nida sighed.

"I mean, it doesn't sound like you did that good of a job," Pleo added.

"Oh come on, at least we got the other boats on fire more often than our own!" Elty protested, which left the three other Pokémon of Team Traveler trading looks with each other.

"Wouldn't you be expected to do that anyways, though?" Pleo asked.

"How on earth did you guys never get captured until you raided our island?" Crom groaned, as he put a claw to his face.

"Better question, how are you still alive, Elty?" Nida asked as she furrowed her brow.

The Growlithe opened his mouth to speak, and then paused and thought about the Nidoran's question for a short moment.

"I dunno," he shrugged. "I never really questioned it before."

Nida rolled her eyes. Elty suddenly seemed much less out of place on a rookie team than she had thought. As she continued to trek forward and heard her teammates' footsteps alongside her, their thoughts returned to the search for the exit.

"Bah, where are those stairs?" Crom complained as he eyed his scribbles on his beaten piece of paper. "The map I made says they should be right here, and all I see is some dumb wall!"

"I mean, they could have shifted since you drew the picture, Crom," Nida explained as she carried on around a corner. "The Distortion can shift stairs around a few times before it clears out the floor-"

Nida found her foot dropping further than she expected, which lead her to yank it back out of instinct- and see that the stairs to the next floor sat around a blind alcove in the wall.

"Or it could be right in front of me," she hastily corrected. The others soon came over, and saw that the Nidoran had indeed found the stairs. So now all that would be left was...

"So we wait for Kiran now?" Pleo asked.

"That would be the smart thing to do, yeah," Crom answered. "Besides, we could use a bit of a rest."

"Pbbt. Is that seriously what you're going to do until you find that Substitute?" Elty admonished as he began to sniff the air. "Seriously, look around a little! You might just find something interesting. Something like… that!"

The Growlithe gestured down a corridor that ran in the opposite direction of the alcove, where Nida could make out the faint sight of what looked like a chest sitting at its end.

"Heh heh, a treasure chest and it's all mine!" Elty proudly declared.

"Um, Elty," Crom groaned. "Those are usually used to store gummis or berries in here to try and get the Distortion to change them."

"Yeah, and who do you think's gets first dibs on them? The finder!" he cried as he bounded down the corridor.

"Elty! Be careful," Crom called out after the Growlithe. "There might be a-!"

Click

"Huh-? Eeyargh!"

Immediately after he heard the trap being sprung, a sudden gust of wind threw Elty back into his teammates. The Growlithe's body knocked the lot back and sent them tumbling down the stairs, yelping and crying out before coming to a rest at the bottom.

"Are treasure chests supposed to do that?" Pleo groaned as stars filled his vision.

"Urgh, no they aren't-" Nida began, just as the sound of scraping and rock groaning from above reverberated.

"Oh no, the stairs!" she cried out. "They're closing!"

"Guh-?" Crom asked as he came to his senses from his fall down the passage, only to recognize the sound of the stairs above being sealed. "What?! Wait!"

But it was too late. The groaning continued, and subsided with a loud, dull thud.

"Blargh… I take those dibs back," a Growlithe's voice weakly groaned a short way from the steps.

"Elty!" Nida fumed.

"Yeah, don't worry about me," Elty continued rambling on in his daze. "Just ate a little dir- Oof!"

The Growlithe then crumpled up and fell to the ground after the Nidoran gave a stiff kick to the orange dog's gut.

"Tonto! What were you thinking?!" she hissed, her ears flared and barbs raised.

"Yeah, you could have gotten hurt!" Pleo admonished, flapping his wings to try and emphasize how scary things could have been.

"And thanks to you, Kiran and the others will have to wait for the Distortion to expose a new set of stairs for them to catch up!" Crom snarled.

"Hey! At least we stuck together, right? How bad could this floor be?" Elty asked as he stumbled back to his feet, just as Crom's snarl was suddenly followed by others.

"Grr…"

"Intruders…"

The team turned and looked across the chamber, and paled after they saw a Buizel, a Corsola, a Frillish, a Finneon, and a pair of Zubat...

Who were advancing on the group as they watched.

"Me and my big mouth," Elty gulped.


Author's Notes:

- (¡)Ya, ya! (¡)Entiendo! - Spanish: "Alright, alright! I get it!"
- fajerwerki - Polish: "fireworks"
- (¡)Tonto! - Spanish: "Idiot!"