Chapter 45: Do-Gooders
"Eh?! This entire town is a pirates' den!"
As Nida's squeaks lingered in the air, the Nidoran looked back at her teammates, and saw that Pleo and Guardia's faces were etched with the same blank, helpless expression that she had when the realization of everything had set in. They had left that death-trap of a dungeon, only to stumble across a haunt of thieves instead of the restful shelter they had expected. Their last stint with such a hive in Andaku was already bad enough… would they be able to deal with an entire town like that horrid port district?
The Nidoran stared ahead blankly for a moment, realizing that she and her team were on their last legs, and they would be in far worse shape to fend off an ambush. Then there was only one seemingly rational thing to do…
"We need to get out of here," Nida muttered. "There's no way that we'd be able to-"
The Nidoran chanced to move her eyes over towards Elty, and saw that the Fire-type wore an excited grin. A wave of shock crested onto Nida, which Pleo and Guardia quickly picked up on and similarly drew their attention to their canine teammate. The Growlithe's expression quickly melted away into nervous unease after finding himself in the crosshairs of piercing glares.
"Er… why are you looking at me like that?" he gulped.
"You knew about this?!" Nida exclaimed.
"Now h-hold on," Elty stammered, starting to backpedal nervously. "Let's talk this-! Ack!"
The dog was cut off by a tackle from the team's Nidoran leader, sending him tumbling to the ground. Elty yelped as he felt a sharp pinch of his left ear, and stumbled along as the blue rabbit dragged him along into a bush. After the town slipped from sight under the cover of a layer of undergrowth, the Fire-Type felt the grip on his ear release, and wrenched his head away with a vigorous shake and a paw at his now-throbbing ear.
"Agh! Yeesh!" he snapped. "What is your problem?!"
"What is our problem?!" Nida hissed. "You were going to lead us into a town full of pirates! What in your right mind made you think that that was okay?!"
"Because this is where all my friends are?" the Growlithe harrumphed. "Honestly, I held up my end of the deal and kept you in one piece this far. Now I'm back. Why shouldn't I head off?"
"S-So you're just going to leave us?!" Pleo cried. "We don't know anything about this place!"
Elty crouched and pinned his ears back with a sharp scowl. He ought to have spat out "Of course I am" in reply, but his words were caught in his throat as he tried to speak. While it was true that he wanted nothing more than to finally return home after this giant mess he'd gotten himself into, he found at least some small part of him doubtful. When he imagined leaving his team in the dust here, he felt… bad. Even if his new companions grated on his nerves sometimes, could he really do that to them?
"It's- It's not like you can't find some other way back in town," he began begrudgingly. "You could join a crew, and-"
The Growlithe trailed off, seeing that his suggestion was drawing nothing other than angry glares and scowls. The Fire-Type cleared his throat, hoping to try and change the subject, only for Guardia to stomp over with her claws balled up into fists.
"I oughta replace my club with one of your bones right here and now!" she snarled. Elty saw no reason to dismiss Guardia's threat as empty or exaggerated. Growling, he hopped back, lowering himself into a battle-ready stance.
"Well excuse me if I'm trying to give you tips!" Elty spat. "If you're going to be like that I'll take my bag back and head off and we can pretend that we never met each other!"
Nida's eyes narrowed, the Nidoran gritting her teeth and twisting her face into a challenging scowl.
"No."
"Say what?" Elty demanded. The dog crept forward and lunged for the bag, only to spring and pounce on air as Nida hopped back and yank the satchel safely away.
"This bag is staying with us," the Nidoran snapped. "If you want it so bad, you can suck it up and stay on the team until we're home."
"But- But I've had that since I got my first scarf!" Elty yelped. "You- You can't just walk off with that like it's some cheap trinket!"
"I can do it as easily as you can leave us behind right here," the Poison-Type hissed. "If you want to try and fight us for it, I'll remind you that we've beaten the tar out of you just fine in the past. So what's it going to be, Elty?"
Elty paused and poked his head out of the bush to look at the town in the distance, before turning his attention back to the singed bag on Nida's shoulder. The Growlithe's expression drooped even further, before he finally offered up a response.
"… I'll stay?"
"Could you say that again?" Nida asked. "I didn't hear you."
"Grr… I'll stay," the Growlithe spat. "For now."
"Great. Then let's hurry up and get out of here," Nida grumbled. "Pleo, is your wing feeling any better?"
The Lugia looked down at his bandaged wing, giving a skeptical tilt of his head. It had been a few days… perhaps it had healed by now? In response, Pleo gave an experimental beat of his wings, only to wince harshly and draw his wing back with a pained whimper.
"A-Ack!"
"It's alright! It's alright!" Nida reassured. "We can think of some other way-!"
"How, spike ball?" Guardia demanded. "Even if I had a club right now, if we tried to swim off this island, we'd be easy pickings for any 'mon out in the water who wanted us."
Nida's ears drooped and her expression started to sink at the ex-feral's words. As much as she hated to admit it, the Cubone had raised a good point. Cyanea and Katyusha were both creatures of the sea and both were looking for them. Lyn and his entire crew moved aboard the sea on their ship, and so did the pirates in the port below. If Pleo could still fly, they had some chance of outmaneuvering them, but trying to outrun them on the sea surface…?
It was an impossible task, one that Elty was all too aware of as a smug grin began to creep over his muzzle. After all, if escape right now wasn't a feasible option…
"Looks like we're going into town after all," he crowed.
Nida, Guardia and Pleo shared an apprehensive glance at one another. To spend the night in a den of thieves was almost as bad as roughing it in a dungeon! It was far from an ideal solution, about as far from ideal as Nida could think of, but… did they really have a choice?
"Fine, we'll look for a hostel to lie low in," Nida growled. "But the bag is still staying with me, and don't you forget that!"
"Hrmph, whatever."
Elty and his teammates traded lingering glares with one another. After a pause, the Nidoran set off down the path, followed by the rest of Team Traveller as they began the descent into the foreboding stony town below.
Elsewhere in Rosequartz Town, Rodion led Hess and the rest of the Iron Fleet along a back alley, ending a five minute-long trek from the docks in front of a skeletal, half-completed building with a thatched roof. It was an unsatisfying structure, located on an unsatisfying plot of land that was unsatisfyingly far from the docks to be convenient, and not nearly mountainous enough to truly make its owner feel at home.
"Well, we're back," the Floatzel said.
But even so, it was still the home of the Iron Fleet. The crew's first mate pushed the door open, leading a batch of impatient pirates into a rounded space lined with still-scaffolded walls. There were mats spread out for the crew to sleep on one end, a central area lined with tables next to a small rock garden, and steps down to a padlocked - if ever-bare - basement that was guarded by a dutiful Watchog.
"Omigosh! We have a base?!" a Hoppip with a still-fresh Iron Fleet scarf exclaimed, giddily flitting to and fro. "Just look at this place! There's card tables, and a rock garden, and-!"
"Oh for crying out loud, it's not that great!" Hess spat. "It's still under construction!"
The Aggron buried his head into an open claw, giving it a bitter shake. In normal times, a return to the Iron Fleet's perennially half-completed base would have been welcoming, but after the recent series of debacles, the half-finished walls and unmanned construction scaffolding were cold comfort to the Steel-Type's conviction that fame and fortune were just over the horizon.
"Urgh… I need a drink," he muttered. At once, the eyes of his underlings lit up, and excited chatter floated about the space under the high thatched roof.
"Alright! Now you're speaking my language!" a Litten cheered.
"Just the thing we needed to come back from after a hard mission like that!" a Cherrim added.
Hess firmly pinched his brow. A damaged ship, an incomplete base, and underlings who cared more about their next swig of rum than actually maintaining their public image. Just the thing he needed to really drive home the feelings of complete and utter incompetence he'd felt as of late…
"Urgh… Claire, get a keg from the vault," Hess groaned, gesturing towards a crude bar fashioned from wooden planks. "I'll be at my usual spot."
There, a waiting yellow-feathered bird with puffy plumes at her wingtips gave a firm salute and headed off to the padlock on the basement door. Hess turned and shuffled off in search of his seat as the Oricorio carried on, followed by some more impatient underlings in their search for a keg of rum. Elsewhere, other pirates had taken seats under the thatched roof, whiling away their time with idle chatter and card games with each other.
The Aggron carried along for his favorite seat perched right beside the rock garden, only for Valatos to swoop in with a buzzing blur settle down right on his seat. Hess' blood boiled, and the Aggron stomped along, ready to paste the Yanmega into the wall for stealing his spot. The Steel-Type neared, only for the bug's Manectric friend to come and claim the seat beside him, followed shortly thereafter by his Marowak partner.
Hess froze, his yearning for his seat having ebbed away when he realized that the only way to get it would be to fight through that bone-headed monster with them, a fight that past run-ins with his kind indicated would only end in a good deal of excruciating agony. The Aggron moved along, his tail pulled tight against his legs as the crew's Ledian head flier passed by with a taunting smirk.
"Looks like I picked a real winner, didn't I?" Kichiro asked smugly. Hess glared and growled back at the Ledian, before coming to a stop at another table in a more secluded corner. The Aggron slumped onto one of the stump-stools and pinched his brow with a deflated sigh, only to feel a shorter creature pawing at his shoulder.
"Mind if I take a seat, Captain?"
Hess looked down, and saw that beside him, his Floatzel first mate was waiting. A hint of concern seemed to flicker over the mustelid's face, which prompted Hess to accept his partner's request.
"Go ahead, Rodion," the Steel-Type sighed.
"Why the long face? I mean, we've had some obvious… difficulties in the past few weeks with ship damage and an unwanted run-in or two, but the crew's the most motivated I've seen in years!" the Floatzel reassured. "Sure, we left in rougher shape than we ought to have, but our raid on Tromba still got us one of our biggest hauls to date, and we even got to have the last laugh over that crew that gave us the slip in Andaku."
"Rodion, I came out of Andaku in debt and didn't even get to use my share of the loot on anything for myself," Hess grumbled back. "We're still operating at a net loss of deck hands, and that thing that Kichiro stuck me with doesn't make things any better!"
Hess hung his head and slumped them into his arms on the table, giving a grumbling sigh as his mind turned to ever more negative assessments of his current situation.
"There's not a whole lot of ways that things could be worse right now," the Aggron grunted.
"Oi!" a voice from the front called. "Is Hess here?"
"Huh?"
The Aggron looked back at the door to the Iron Fleet's hangout, where a Conkeldurr was waiting. The creature carried a stern, serious expression, much as a bouncer or a loan shark would.
"I've got a summons from the Council for him," the Fighting-Type said. "They say they need to see him in person."
Hess froze. The Council wanted him? The four head pirates who dictated the workings of Rosequartz Town? Among the locals, a summons before the Council was sometimes a sign of great fortune, meaning that they had found favor with a particularly promising captain and wished to reward or start up a collaboration.
The other reason was that the Council wished to punish a captain that had fallen afoul of them. There were any number of fates that could befall such an unlucky soul, many of which Hess had heard of in whispers and dreadful rumors. And the Aggron knew all too well which of the two reasons the council most likely had for calling him.
"Ulp…" he squeaked. "Me and my big mouth."
"Hup!"
Out on the path leading to Mengir's shrine, the four Pokémon from the Siglo Swellow had been following the trail up deeper and deeper into the woods. Along the way, Crom had been gliding between trees, coming to a perch on their sturdier branches much as he had just a few moments ago. The Druddigon leapt and sailed back down towards the ground, giving a cheery beat of his wings and attracting a scolding chirp from his Swellow team captain.
"Tsk. You ought to be more mindful of your surroundings, Crom," Kiran admonished. "You're 100% more likely to disturb someone's home by clambering up stuff willy-nilly like that."
"Eh? But I haven't seen a mailbox in the last fifteen minutes!" the little Druddigon mentioned. "I don't think any Pokémon from town live here."
The other Pokémon looked around their surroundings and blinked. Now that Crom had mentioned it, it had been a while since they saw a mailbox, the telltale marker of a town-dweller living in the fringes. Was there something special about the path that they were traveling?
"That's strange," Ander murmured. "There's usually still places claimed this far out back home…"
"Maybe it has something to do with the Protector the town has?" Pladur mulled.
"Hrm?" Kiran chirped. "What makes you say that, Pladur?"
"Well, back home, our Protector is a sea god, and our town's main square is right by the sea," the Fraxure answered. "Here, the square is inland. Maybe whatever the local Protector is influenced the way they built their town?"
Ander paused his steady stride to prod at a bit of something on the trail, scowling slightly at whatever was at the tip of his blade. The others gathered around to inspect his find, only to stumble back in shock as they were able to see it: a smooth, brightly-colored fragment of some small shell.
"A-Ander, that's an Apricorn shell!" Pladur cried. "Cuidado!"
The Scyther hesitated and looked back at the worried Fraxure for a moment, before digging the tip of his blade under the shell and revealing it to be a partial fragment that had been broken off the original. The mantis shook his head and gave a low buzz back in reply.
"Hrmph. I would think there's some more down-to-earth explanations for where Pokémon live around here," he countered, before flicking away the nut fragment. "It's a stormy island, and Pokémon obviously bring apricorns through here."
"But these Pokémon have had years to change their surroundings… Perhaps the real answer is something in between?" Kiran insisted. "That said, if the Protector did play a role in all of this, I wonder what it's like if the Pokémon settled away from the sea, but also not too far inland."
"Not anything good if even common Pokémon don't want to get too close if you ask me," Ander muttered under his breath.
"Oh, I think I see something!" Crom cried.
Rounding the crest of a hill, a structure finally came into view of the Siglo Swellow's crew. However, the sorry sight before them hardly seemed like it could be the shrine they'd been instructed to find. Barely any of the ruin seemed recognizable as a shrine; it was more like a pile of painted rubble. As the four neared the site, the only signs of a Protector they could find were bits and pieces of some carving depicting some antlered creature. An altar in the middle of a rotting wooden pavilion nearby seemed to have been a spot for Pokemon to leave offerings for the local ferals, but the offering altar was totally caked in dust and mold, like it hadn't seen any donations in years!
"Is… this it?" Crom murmured.
"It is in the spot that Hertsog told us…" Kiran answered.
"B-But this place is a ruin!" the Druddigon exclaimed. "Why would any town let their shrine get like this?"
Pladur and Ander traded a blank stare, totally befuddled by the state of this island's shrine. Pladur had never seen a Protector's shrine in such a sorry state of disrepair - not ever, in all his travels with the Siglo Swellow! And Ander apparently had also found the shrine's state to be unexpected. Just what could possibly have been the cause of its ruin?
Shhk-Shhk-Shhk
"… What was that?" Ander asked.
Flitting out of the trees nearby came a pack of Beautifly and a Dustox, looking to be in fairly poor shape. They flew in erratic, off-kilter patterns, and their chitinous bodies were scuffed-up and dirty.
"Huh?"
"Oh, it's just a bunch of fera-" Kiran began, only to be cut off by a slicing gust of wind.
"ACK!"
"Wh-What are you doing?!" Pladur exclaimed.
Pladur watched as the Dustox in the group beat her wings and her eyes began to glow. The Dragon-Type felt an unseen force shove him from the front, yelping as he lost his footing and tumbled backwards. The Fraxure hit the ground and with a panicked flail, spat up a blue column of fiery light into the bug's face. The Dustox screeched and let go of her Confusion, leaving Pladur to hurriedly right himself onto his feet as both sides assumed battle positions and watched each other closely.
"Grr… what are we doing?" a Dustox spat. "You have some nerve showing your face anywhere near these parts this late, Inkfoot!"
"B-But we're trying to fix the shrine here," Crom insisted. "We're not threatening you at all!"
"Why would you defilers care about this svetilishte?" the ringleader Beautifly hissed. "You stole our god's egg from us!"
The four Bug-Types began to encroach on the Druddigon and his companions, only to be hastily cut off by a buffet of slashes, slicing winds, and gouts of dragonfire. The four insects hastily fell back, and with their confidence of an easy victory shattered and their mind turning back to their lingering wounds, decided to take flight.
"A-Ack!" the lighter-colored Beautifly squealed. "Retreat! Retreat!"
The four Pokemon breathed a sigh of relief as their aggressors flew off, leaving them in relative peace for the time being. As silence settled back into place, one question nagged at Pladur's mind…
"… What just happened?" he asked.
"'Defilers'? Stealing a god's egg?" Kiran murmured. "What on earth were they going on about?"
Ander cast a wary glance back at the ruined shrine. The Scyther paused and mulled, looking back after the direction the four ferals fled in before giving a shake of his head.
"I think I'm starting to understand why this place is abandoned," the mantis muttered.
"But- But not everyone in Fensedge could have been involved in something like that!" Crom exclaimed. "Maybe the ferals just need something to remind them of that?"
Pladur paused and looked warily at his surroundings. Mengir clearly was a place that was very different from Tromba if its townsfolk and the local ferals' behavior were anything to go by. Even if they knew the place better, just what would they be able to give as a reminder that the town hadn't been able to for who knows how long?
Though… perhaps there was one thing that they could try.
"Well… I suppose repairing that ánima would be a good start," the Fraxure said.
"Come on, let's hurry up and figure out everything we'll need to do before it gets too dark," Kiran insisted. "This is going to be a longer mission than I thought."
The four took a final look around the site around to size up the work to be done, keenly watching the lowering sun in the sky and being mindful of presences from the nearby forest. It would be a stretch to get done, but they should be able to get the shrine repaired before Hertsog left, and the Pokémon here on Mengir would surely appreciate having their god's monument restored…
Or so they hoped.
"Eh?! Didn't we already pass by that drawing a little earlier?"
Pleo gestured at a crude scrawl of a Nidoking in a Company scarf flailing furiously at similarly crude ships around him. The scrawl was accompanied by sloppy runes that were illegible to the young Protector and his Cubone teammate, but drew stunned blinks from his Nidoran counterpart. It had been half an hour since they entered Rosequartz Town, and Elty had been tasked to help the group find a hostel. They had passed Juice Bars, gambling halls, and some buildings with red lanterns that were strangely shuttered up in the middle of the day, but all the while they had not found a single hostel.
"Elty, you said there was a hostel around here!" Nida growled.
"There is, alright!" the Growlithe huffed back. "Just get off my case!"
"So why is it taking so long?!" Guardia hissed.
"Because this part of town is a maze of alleys, and I don't have a scent of someone who's gone ahead to track?" Elty spat. "Excuse me if I don't remember every single nook and cranny around here-!"
"I saw Captain Sibich hanging out at our old place earlier today chatting up the kids there."
Team Traveller's members stopped in their tracks as the sound of a low voice floated through the air. The four looked around them, when suddenly, from further down the alley, another voice spoke up.
"The Day Care full of Marked kids?" a clucking voice asked back. "He's not recruiting there, is he?"
"Huh?" Pleo murmured. The young Lugia ruffled his feathers uncomfortably, before creeping along in the alleyway, his teammates following along closely behind.
"Well, I mean he has a stake in the place," the lower voice said. "So why not?"
"Because that's super creepy of him?" the bird's voice retorted. "Most of those kids are little ankle biters who are still chewing on crayons."
"Hey, I'm sure whatever he's up to there isn't that bad," a third and raspy voice offered. "He gave us our first jobs when we were younger right? And we turned out fine."
Nida froze and pricked her ears up. As she processed the raspy, reptilian voice in her mind, she realized more and more that she had heard it before. Wasn't this…?
"Wait, that voice…" Nida murmured. "That's-"
Nida tensed up as a Scraggy rounded the corner suddenly. The lizard bumped into her, knocking the both of them backwards with a start. His scarf had changed from the striped blue design with the red arrow on it into a black cloth with a gold, frond-like design, but the Marked comet on his head told all. Following the Scraggy was a Combusken and a Grotle, all three of them sporting the five-tailed comet of the Marked on their heads and going wide-eyed out of shock at the sight of her seabird companion.
"Ack!"
"A-AAAAAAH!" the Scraggy shrieked. "Y-You again!"
"A-Again?! Wh-What do you mean again, Eric?!" the Grotle whimpered. "Y-You mean you weren't high on Lansat back in Andaku?!"
"You're- You're-"
The Combusken looked around frantically, searching for something that she could use against the white-feathered fiend before her. Her eyes found nothing to set alight, nor anything to throw down onto the beast…
Except, she saw that the Cubone with it was without a club and undefended. Impulsively, the Fire-Type threw a claw on the Ground-Type and drug her up by the scruff of her neck with a yelp.
"You're coming with me, lizard!" the Combusken shouted.
"A-Ack! Guardia!" Pleo cried.
"Let her go!" Nida demanded.
"Sela?!" the Scraggy exclaimed. "What are you doing?!"
The Combusken, evidently Sela, blinked incredulously, half disbelieving that her desperate gambit that the white bird saw some value in the Cubone had paid off. The Fire-Type's eyes narrowed, realizing that she now held an effective shield to keep the demon at bay. Her confidence returning to her, the chicken held a claw up to the neck of her flailing captive, the Ground-Type's struggles stilling in blind, wide-eyed terror.
"Getting us out of here!" she answered.
"A-Aah…"
"Not one step further, demon!" the Fire-Type demanded. "Or your friend here gets it!"
"But- But I'm not a demon!" Pleo cried. "I'm not evil!"
"Yeah, sure you are," Sela snorted. "And I'm just giving your friend a playful hug here!"
"Sela, don't taunt it!" the Grotle pleaded. As her captors continued arguing, the Cubone looked desperately at her teammates, shivering and rigid with shock at her mortal predicament.
"G-Guys…?"
"Just let the bonehead go!" Elty barked. "We don't want to fight you!"
"As if! Let me tell you what's gonna happen!" the Combusken snapped. "The three of us are gonna back up and get out of here alongside your little friend here. If we're far enough and you don't follow us, maybe we'll let her go-"
Sela was interrupted by a minty-green claw digging into her shoulder. She flinched visibly, her muscles tensing at the forceful prick of the claws' points under her plumes.
"W-what the-?!"
"This seems far enough, don't you agree?"
The three brigands gulped and looked up behind, where there was the looming, glaring form of a Flygon, the creature's tail swishing impatiently. The Dragon-Type growled lowly and bared his fangs, squeezing Sela's shoulder with his claws.
"Let me tell you what's going to happen," the Flygon snarled. "You're going to let the Cubone go, or you blotch-heads are gonna have bigger worries than your 'demon' there."
The Combusken and her companion's eyes widened and their bodies froze, leaving the three appearing not unlike Deerling about to be struck by a Flash Cannon. The Fire-Type moved her beak weakly, struggling to form a coherent response.
"We- We…"
The Combusken's mind blanked as she stared ahead at the snarling Dragon-Type, not noticing her grip slackening and Guardia wrenching herself free and running behind her teammates for cover. The Flygon leaned in on the petrified bird, flashing his fangs in the Fighting-Type's face.
"I think you three should get out of here," the dragon growled. "Anois."
The Grotle and Scraggy instinctively turned and bolted down a nearby alley, the Dark-Type realizing halfway down that Sela still had not come, prompting him to rush back and tug at the arm of his still-petrified partner.
"Sela, come on!"
The Combusken stumbled back and hastily lurched to her feet, fleeing with the Scraggy as fast as their legs could carry them. The Flygon watched intently as the last of the brigands slipped away, before he shook his head and turned his attention back to the four panting and shaken members of Team Traveller.
"Are you alright?" the antlion asked.
"Chigau yo! A yajū just threatened to kill me a few seconds ago!" Guardia fumed. "Of course I'm not alright!"
"Er… we could be doing a bit better, yeah," Elty admitted.
"What are you all doing in this part of town anyways?" the Flygon pressed.
"Well… we haven't really found our footing in this town and were kinda looking for a place to stay the night," Nida admitted.
The Flygon cocked his head slightly, eyes turned to the sky, deep in thought. After his moment's consideration, he shrugged and opened her arms in a welcoming gesture.
"Then follow me," the bug-dragon said. "I might be able to help with that."
The four youngsters looked hesitantly among one another, wondering if it really safe to trust a stranger in this town of all places? After a pause, Nida decided to step forward, motivating Pleo, then Guardia, and finally Elty as the Dragon-Type bade them to follow. With the need for rest weighing heavily on their mind and the timely save the Flygon had made, their suspicions gave way to thanks and cautious anticipation as they followed their newfound guide down the warrens of Rosequartz Town.
Back in Braveshoal Town, the waters surrounding the settlement's web of air tunnels teemed with life. Sea Pokémon of all shapes and sizes flitted about between reefs and stony sunken buildings. A few of the creatures stopped at flooded storefronts set up specifically to cater to them, including a shop lined with metalware stored in a small air pocket in an attic with a space to smith to protect them from rust. There, a Slowbro slipped a pair of glinting metal lumps through the seawater across the counter, to a waiting Clawitzer.
"Here you go," the Slowbro said. "Two badges, as ordered."
Nagant snatched up the metal baubles, giving each a careful inspection and feel with her mouthparts. The badges were freshly-made, to the point where the metal was still warm to the touch. Barring the obligatory misshapen part here or there, there were no defects, nor impurities. Though one glaring flaw still stood out to the crustacean…
"I was hoping for more," the Clawitzer sighed. "But it'll have to do."
"Eh?" the proprietor asked. "Got a big team for your next mission?"
A dark shadow passed overhead, prompting the Howitzer Pokémon to look up and see the hull of a frigate with the accompanying form of escorts in the water drift by overhead. Her cue that while not ideal, the pair of badges would have to do.
"Something like that, yes," Nagant answered.
The Clawitzer snatched up the badges and hid them underneath her scarf before swimming up, leaving the rapidly-fading reef town below her as she breached the surface. Nagant surfaced in the middle of a group of her ship's sea escorts, and without missing a beat, leveled her claw and shot a pulsing burst of water at the tip of her Vasilek's center mast.
Splash!
The ball exploded into a deluge of water, drawing yelps and whines from the crew aboard. Along with the rude disruption of their calm, Nagant's Water Pulse served to draw the attention of the entire crew, as a sea of eyes on the ship, the water, and in the air focused themselves on her.
"I'm back," the shrimp grunted. "Jun, is everything prepared for the ship?"
"Aye," the Beedrill first mate buzzed back from aboard the ship. "All the armaments have been stocked, Captain."
"Good," she harrumphed. "Then let's hurry and cut to the chase."
One by one, the members of the crew gathered to listen to their captain, along the ship's rails, and around the shrimp in the water. A few grumbles over the sudden drenching floated around, only to be silenced with a hard tap against the hull from their captain's big claw.
"Alright, listen up everyone," Nagant barked. "We're about to sail off to what might be the most important mission any of you have seen in your Indigos, so pay attention and don't make me repeat myself."
The Clawitzer swam away from the hull, gave a hard look at her gathered audience, and buoyed herself upright in the water, taking the opportunity to clear her throat before speaking.
"As you all know, the Protector we've been chasing was sighted going into the Crystal Mangroves," she said. "I wasn't able to get badges for everyone, but there is still plenty of stuff to be done."
Nagant shook her head and turned her body to face Cyanea and Katyusha, gesturing at the pair with her large claw.
"Cyanea. Katyusha. Since you two were so… 'eager' to go on this mission, you two will be the ones to go into the dungeon after the Lugia," the shrimp snapped. "You'll be coordinating with Schuster so that we can set up an ambush that will catch them."
"Oh, so like a Monster House!" a Vespiquen exclaimed. "But without the ferals!"
"… Something like that," Nagant said, rolling her eyes. "As for the rest of you, if you're not on standby to head into the dungeon, I want you either out in the sea, in the Subway routes looking for those kids, or on the ship to keep an eye out for trouble!"
The Clawitzer gave a dismissive wave of her claw before shifting her gaze back to her Tentacruel and Sharpedo underlings from the corner of her eye, giving a grumbling huff.
"And it goes without saying that this is not the time for any stunts for personal glory," the shrimp chittered. "If we're going to get that bird, we're all going to have to work together and do the parts we're assigned. Are we all clear?"
The Tentacruel's bell deflated a bit, the jellyfish blowing annoyed, grumbling bubbles under the surface before reluctantly acknowledging her captain's order.
"Da, Captain…"
"I can't hear all of you!" Nagant repeated. "Are we all clear?"
A chorus of affirmations came at the Howitzer Pokémon's insistence. Satisfied that her orders had been heard by her crew, the wizened shrimp swam out in front of the Vasilek's bow, and gestured up to the deck .
"Good, take the ship hard to starboard," the Clawitzer barked. "We're getting out of here."
The crew quickly flew into a hurry, unmooring the Vasilek as her escorts in sky and sea whipped up currents to speed it along for one of the atoll's exits. All the while, Nagant swam at the front, keenly casting her gaze over the horizon, eager to finally snatch her ticket to rebuilding the lost world of her youth.
Deep within Rosequartz Town, Hess had been led along by the Conkeldurr messenger into the seaside manor formerly used by Rosequartz's nobles. The gable-roofed chalet was made of stone, its walls covered in painted scrawls and obvious patchwork from past punitive raids on the town. In spite of its battered and diminished appearance, the place still managed to carry an imposing air, weighing down on Hess as he uneasily drew his head and tail close to his body.
The pair made their way through a set of hardwood doors, through an entrance room, and down a hallway where surly guards stood at attention here and there in armor plates that had been stolen in past raids and re-dyed to complement their crews' colors. Hess and his guide passed a series of doorways, some barred, others opened to reveal disused rooms that had been picked clean, perhaps once-proud studies or salons. There, the Conkeldurr took the Steel-Type into a darkened chamber, where under an overhead skylight was a table next to a pool surrounded by a motley collection of seats including a stump-stool, a cushion, and a wooden throne. Seated on the respective places were a Primarina, a Tyrantrum, a Cofagrigus, and a Bisharp, all waiting and chattering in indistinct, impatient-sounding voices.
"Break a leg out there," the Conkeldurr said. "Or considering your audience, maybe don't."
Slam!
As the heavy doors slammed behind him, Hess gulped and inched along. The chamber had been designed as a gathering place in the past, with its high ceiling and a pool connected to the sea evidencing its intent to be accessible to guests of any sort. The four members of the Council had since put the room's layout to good use, gathering around a round table with maps and modest trophies of their exploits lining the walls.
There was Ingela, the cold-tempered and cold-hearted siren of a Primarina who had grown her mate's fleet after his abrupt passing into a scourge above and beneath the waves. On the cushion was Captain Sibich, the Cofagrigus captain who was connected to a good deal of the Marked in port. His reasons for doing so had always remained an enigma, and those from outside his crew who pried too deeply into the matter had a knack for meeting untimely ends. Tarquin of the Strongjaw Gang — the newest member of the Council — was also there. Although the Tyrantrum was by far the least experienced member of the Council, the stories surrounding him painted a picture of a Pokémon who was every bit as cutthroat as in his days as a Commander for the Company.
"Ahem."
And of course, the Bisharp ringleader, Captain Dirk. The sole holdover from the Council from Rosequartz's glory days under the dread Captain Beatrice. Since her demise, he had fought his way up through cunning and ruthlessness, now the proud proprietor of a fleet of five ships and the first among his peers from Orleigh's current leadership.
With every trudging step forward, uncomfortable thoughts of his own mortality swirled in his mind. If the Council was displeased with him, they could easily pack him into an Apricorn to send him into the Wastes… Or they could trip the rumored trapdoor under their floor that — depending on the teller — supposedly held an inescapable oubliette to starve in, a cistern of water to drown in, or more Apricorns… Or perhaps they might get more direct and reduce him to a stain on the chamber floor, and use his armor as ship cladding…
"You can stop stalling," Sibich said. "We just had a couple questions that we needed you to answer."
"S-So I'm not in trouble?" Hess stammered.
"You will be if you don't hurry up!" Tarquin growled.
"Gih!"
The Aggron hastily darted over to the seated Pokémon and greeted the gathered council. After giving the Steel-Type a nod back, the Bisharp from the group stood and sized up his trembling guest.
"So… we heard that you came into port with some mast trouble after paying a visit to Tromba," the Dark-Type began.
"Er… well, I did, Captain Dirk," Hess answered. "But that was almost three weeks ago."
"Yes, I know that," the bladed creature replied, glaring sharply. "But some other developments have come up since then, and we wanted to hear from you about what happened."
"Developments?"
"Well, there's the rumor of a god appearing in Boisocéan. The Marked have been trading stories of their own, of a demon prowling the docks in Kenobi…" the Cofagrigus responded, idly whirling one of his right hands. "You know, little things."
"All stories which seem to point to the arrival of a Protector," Ingela added. "If there is indeed one that has just awoken, it provides our haven the opportunity of a lifetime if we can make cause with it."
"So…" Dirk pressed. "What happened out there, Hess?"
"Well, we'd pulled into Tromba after doing a little scouting. My ship's sea escorts sent the local harbor dorks swimming off easily enough, and we landed right in the main square," the Aggron started. "Everything was going just great until that strange bird showed up."
"Tell us about this bird," Tarquin said. "What did it look like?"
"Well, it looked kinda like an overgrown Wingull," Hess answered. "With a big long neck and tail, blue plates and a crest… Came up to about my belly or so."
The four Pokémon of the council turned and traded skeptical looks with each other. An "overgrown Wingull" that was about as tall as a pushover like a Parasect was hardly the description of a mighty Protector…
"Well, that's certainly a… different Pokémon," Sibich muttered. "And how did you run into this 'overgrown Wingull' in the first place?"
"I was heading down one of the paths into the interior trying to get my claws on this local shrine bell I heard about, and ran into him with a bunch of kids and some Nidorina," Hess explained. "I handled the kids just fine, and I had the Nidorina on the ropes, but then that bird suddenly started glowing and it threw me into the air-"
"Stop."
"E-Eh?!" the Aggron exclaimed. "But I wasn't finished!"
"I've heard enough to know when I'm being fed a blatant cover for someone's screwups," Dirk snarled. "And here I thought that this might have actually been something important."
The Steel-Type began to stammer, looking around nervously. Sure, his story might sound a little absurd, but it was true! If the Council called him out here to talk about it, they had to understand that!
"B-But that's really what happened-!" Hess began, only to be cut off by a chorus of snarls.
"Oi, you heard the mon," Tarquin snapped. "Take a hike!"
"You would be wise not to test our patience, Aggron," Ingela growled. "Take a hint, and get out with all your limbs attached while you can."
"Y-Yeek!"
The Aggron turned and bolted for the doors in a blind panic. A loud crash rang out, followed by a yelp and pained whine as Hess nursed his toes from stubbing them into the door. The creature stumbled out of the doorway, and hastily took off, leaving the darkened chamber to return back to an uneasy, unimpressed silence.
"Unbelievable," the Bisharp grumbled. "Next time, bring some actual proof behind your claims, Sibich."
"Very well, Dirk," the Ghost-Type answered, giving an exasperated sigh. "Though with all due respect, there are some things that you just have to go with your gut about."
The chamber started to clear out of its occupants, Dirk making his way for the door as Ingela shuffled from the pool's edge and slipped under the surface. Sibich too rose up, and started to float over for the exit, only to hear a growling voice call after him.
"Hey, Sibich," Tarquin said. "You didn't really believe that metal-headed screwup, did you?"
"I do, yes," the Cofagrigus replied. "Because if there's one thing that I've learned about this world in my career, it's that there's usually more than meets the eye."
"But Tromba's Protector waking up and turning out to just be some kid? That Pokémon's supposed to be able to shake the heavens and earth like all the other high gods," the Tyrantrum scoffed. "I spent years on that island and that take sounds fishy even to me. What are the odds that story's real?"
Meanwhile, back in Rosequartz Town, Team Traveller followed their impromptu Flygon guide down a back alleyway, passing stony buildings flecked with grimy shops and similar unseemly customers. The Dragon-Type led the four into a small plaza overshadowed by an apple tree in the center. Behind the tree, there was a wide, low-slung building with two levels and an entrance fortified with sturdy doors and reinforced shutters over windows with crude planters dangling outside.
"Is this what you were looking for?" the Flygon asked. The bug-dragon opened a push-door and bade his accompanying guests enter, the youngsters blinking to adjust to the dimmer light inside.
As their vision began to adjust, the four Pokémon looked around and saw that the antlion had led them into a room with tables lined with cushioned stools and a pawful of benches hewn from rough wood along the wall. In one corner was a desk with some papers strewn about it, and the back wall was a wide entrance to a courtyard surrounded by wings of the building. By chance, the team noticed some stray straw on the floor, which made them instantly perk up in realization.
"Ah!" Pleo cried. "This is a hostel!"
"Nieważne, I could've found it eventually," Elty grumbled.
"Thank you so much for taking us here, Flygon," Nida said. "I don't know what we would have done earlier without you."
"You flatter me, and the name is Rasp. My family and I run this little joint," the Flygon replied. "My dad helps fill my vacancies by picking up Pokémon crawling the dungeon and pointing them to this hostel if they need a place to spend the night."
Hold on- did he say his family owned this hostel? Which would mean that…
"You brought us here just so that way you could get money from us?" Guardia asked skeptically.
"Well, we do have a business to run. And you seemed rather tired of trying to find one on your own," Rasp answered with a chuckle. "Call it a symbiotic relationship."
"Well, whatever it is, it's good enough for me," Elty sighed. "I'm beat."
"I've got a little spare time," the Dragon-Type said. "Come along and I'll show you around a bit."
The Flygon ushered the youngsters along, taking them down a windowed hallway ringing the courtyard on the first floor as the group passed doors that had been shuttered. Claimed accommodations, perhaps?
"So are you looking for a place on the mats in the common quarters or a room?" the Flygon asked.
The four passed a room with the door slightly ajar, revealing an open, furnitureless room filled with mats spread on the ground…
THWACK!
…and the sight of a Gligar sailing across the doorway and into a wall with a yelp, an irked Bagon pawing at the ground and a displeased Snover following shortly after.
"That's what you get for trying to cheat! Don't think I didn't see that Fire energy you snuck in!"
As the three Pokémon continued their heated argument with each other, Nida, Pleo, Elty, and Guardia blinked and noticed that their three potential roommates seemed to be rough in looks and temperament. The youngsters looked at each other, then back at their prospective roommates for the night, before finally turning to the waiting Flygon.
"… A room."
"Excellent choice," the proprietor answered.
Rasp carried on, prompting Team Traveller to follow after him, eager to put distance between themselves and the common room's occupants. The group began to set down a hallway lined with papered windows, Guardia casting wary glances at her surroundings all the while.
"What is wrong with this town anyways?" the Cubone huffed. "You're supposed to be attacked less often inside a town, aren't you?"
"It comes with the territory unfortunately," Rasp said, shaking his head. "Rosequartz Town is pirate territory and while pirates are good business, they bring a lot of unsavoriness with them."
"Why don't 'mons like you do anything about it?" Nida asked.
"Who would we get help from?" the Dragon-Type replied. "Neither the Company nor the Empire can take this place for themselves without tripping off a border war, and half the town doesn't want them back anyways."
Pleo, Nida, and Guardia jolted upright out of surprise at Rasp's response. Company rule was undoubtedly a harsh burden, and if Nerea was right, the Empire was little better… but even so, wasn't living with pirates who were constantly prowling the town worse than that?
"They don't even want their help? But why not?" Pleo exclaimed. "These pirates are a bunch of meanies!"
"Maybe so, but they generally leave the locals alone," Rasp explained. "Since the Empire and the Company split, honest trade here has ground to a halt."
Nida folded her ears back and gave a dubious twitch of her whiskers. Was Rasp just making excuses here? Seahive Square and Braveshoal were both towns that weren't controlled by the Company, and neither of them had turned out anything like this.
"Can't you make gummis like Boisocean though?" the Nidoran pressed.
"It's a bit of a different island," he explained. "It's not nearly as easy to get lots of food in and out, so for the town in general, this is the best option we have."
"But you don't seem like the kind of Pokémon who'd just be okay with this…" Pleo said.
"I'm not, which is why I try to do my part to help Pokémon like you kids out," Rasp responded. "But as things stand, there's not much Rosequartz can do until the Company and the Empire sort themselves out."
The Flygon turned from his passage across the courtyard and flitted over to a door, pushing it open to reveal a stone staircase. Rasp gestured to Team Traveller to follow him, leading the group up a hallway overlooking the courtyard and to a simple wooden door that was parted, opening into a dimly-lit room.
"Well, this is it," the Flygon said. "Nothing too fancy, but the best you'll get around these parts for 400 Poké a night."
Rasp propped the crude shutter over the window open, letting the evening light filter in and better illuminate the room. The space had four straw beds, with blankets spread out over them, evidently for cold nights. The furniture was spartan, much as the hostel in Fensedge, consisting entirely of a low table with cushions for seats and a set of drawers that had been pushed up against the side wall.
"How long will you be around here?"
"Just tonight, hopefully," Nida muttered. "The sooner we can move onto Sormus, the better."
The rest of Team Traveller tensed up as soon as the words left their teammate's mouth, realizing the potential repercussions of letting their plans slip in a place like this. Then again… this Rasp 'mon seemed nice enough and he really didn't seem like the type to get them into any trouble for a passing remark like that. Before they knew it, the four youngsters once again began to relax somewhat at this realization, reassured by the Dragon-Type's seeming failure to make much of Nida's slip-up.
"Completely understandable," the innkeeper offered. "In the interim, make yourself at home and enjoy the full moon tonight."
Guardia fidgeted uneasily at Rasp's mention of the moon, taking a small step back from the group. Her teammates, eager to finally get some rest, failed to notice their partner's reaction as they continued chattering with the Flygon innkeeper.
"Thank you, Rasp," Nida replied, giving a thankful bow.
"Well, since we're here, we might as well figure out who's getting what bed tonight," Elty grunted.
"I call the high bed," Guardia said.
Pleo, Elty, and Nida turned their eyes and followed the Cubone's claw as she pointed off… at the top of the dresser by the wall.
"Uh… Guardia?" Nida murmured. "That isn't a bed."
"We have those cushions by the table and they'll fit nicely on top," Guardia huffed. "It's soft and you can lay on it can't you? How am I supposed to gather lore about how well you can sleep on it without trying it out?"
The Cubone's insistence drew eye rolls and groans from Elty and Nida. Even Rasp found the Ground-Type's thought process to be strange, as he turned to look down to his Nidoran guest for clarification.
"She's a recent recruit of yours, isn't she?" the Flygon asked.
"That obvious, huh?" Nida sighed.
"Whelp, suit yourself," Rasp answered. "If you four are hungry, we'll be having dinner for our customers in a few minutes in the dining hall downstairs."
Rrr
The four youngsters looked down at their bellies as a chorus of faint growls filled the room. It had been a while since they last ate, and being able to eat something more than the spare berries and Apples they had purchased with Dimitri sounded awfully tempting right now.
"Uh… that sounds pretty good, actually," Elty said.
With that, Team Traveller set off, following after their Dragon-Type guide back out into the hallway as their yearnings for food and rest bubbled up. They could sweat the details of getting to Sormus later, after their stomachs were full and fed.
Nights in Braveshoal were always darker than above the sea's surface, the familiar comforts of the moon and stars dimmed by the volume of water in between. In their stead, the Pokémon that passed through Braveshoal made a point of gathering the glowing algae in the sea into bottles and jars, forming crude lanterns that served to fleck the reef and its stony monoliths with bluish light.
As on land, nights generally ebbed to a slower pace, as the diurnal residents began to shutter their shops and the local night owls came out to take their place and keep the town functioning in their absence. At a square in the web of air tunnels that crisscrossed the town, a Samurott and a Jellicent were closing a well-built stone bank down for the night. As the otter helped throw netting over the entrance and windows to seal up the store, the Ghost-Type floated over, eyeing his companion dubiously.
"Eh? You're still working, Sevan?" the Jellicent proprietor asked. "But your shift ended half an hour ago!"
"I don't like seeing work go unfinished," the Samurott answered.
"I think that I can handle the rest," the Ghost-Type insisted. "Go and take the evening off, the night-watchmons will be here shortly anyways."
"Hmm… right," Sevan replied. "I'll see you in the morning, then."
Sevan put down the netting in his paw and crossed the square. The Samurott set off down the cramped and winding back alleys he usually did after work, the sound and smell of food cooking from cheap eateries pricking his ears and nose all the while.
"Hello, brother…"
The Formidable Pokémon froze and instinctively grabbed at the handle of one of his seamitars when he paused. Sevan realized that the voice was familiar for good reason, and if not necessarily friendly, it was not hostile. The culprit soon became clear, as a familiar looking Samurott donning a white scarf with a blue sun stepped out and gave a welcoming bow.
"Let's talk someplace quieter," Lyn said. "I had a few questions for you that I needed to get to the bottom of."
The younger Samurott motioned with his paw for Sevan to follow. After giving a glance around, the mercenary followed his brother down an alley and into a small clearing around a support tower festooned with bubbleweed, the older otter giving an agitated twitch of his whiskers.
"What is it that you need?" Sevan demanded.
"Have you seen a strange seabird around town lately?" the Commissioner prodded. One resembling an overgrown Wingull with a long neck?"
"I have," the older Samurott answered. "Why?"
"Good," Lyn grunted. "I'm here because my superiors want them brought in, and you're going to help me."
The Commissioner's insistence was met with a long face and a skeptical frown from his older brother. Sevan hardened his eyes into a fierce glare, and turned his head away with a derisive snort.
"Right," Sevan snorted. "I'm going to help the organization that ruined our father after he spent his life faithfully serving them. Get real, Lyn."
"He ruined us, Sevan. If he hadn't been a bleeding heart and just done his mission all those years ago, we wouldn't have fallen into penury," Lyn spat back. "All those nights going to bed hungry, having to constantly move from one den to the next looking for some dead-end job… none of that would have happened. And if you had just owned up to that years ago, you wouldn't be here bouncing from job to job as a sellsword for your next pittance."
"Lyn, if you came all the way out here to Braveshoal just to lecture me, then I'd be better off moving along," Sevan growled. "It's been a long day of work and I haven't had dinner yet."
"I didn't, actually," his brother insisted. Lyn stuck his paw into a satchel made of netting on his back, pulling out a stack of wanted posters printed on stiffened cloth. There on them were the unmistakeable forms of that group of children with the white bird from the day before.
"This is why you're going to help me find that bird and his friends," he explained. His brother grabbed the posters, browsing them, before squeezing them into crumpled lump with a sour look.
"Yeah, I'm not buying it," Sevan snapped, turning to leave. "Go find someone else to do your dirty work with those kids, Lyn."
"There's nothing to buy, Sevan," Lyn retorted. "That bird and his friends are dangerous, and the sooner they're taken off the seas, the better."
"So you're telling me that a group of pups are strong enough to menace the Company's warships?" Sevan scoffed. "I knew that the Company bent the truth from time to time, but this is just ridiculous."
"Because they're not alone, Sevan," the Commissioner insisted.
Lyn fished out another pair of posters and pushed them into his brother's face. On them were the forms of a Nidorina and a Hydreigon, the two evidently being extremely dangerous pirates from their descriptions.
"It's the company they keep that's the problem," Lyn explained. "If we can grab the weaker ones, we can use them as bait to capture the real villains."
The skeptical expression on Sevan's face was evidence enough that he wasn't terribly convinced. Lyn thought to himself whether or not he had a better argument to offer. Maybe if Sevan had a stake in the matter, he'd feel different?
"Look, who's the current client that you're working for?" Lyn asked.
"Bunge's Bank," Sevan answered. "I'm sure you saw the building while waiting for me."
"If you let those kids just go off, what's keeping them from telling their buddies about what they saw at Bunge's place, huh?" the Commissioner pressed. "They surely saw all the ways to get in and out of this town while they were here."
"… They seemed fairly lost for scouts when I ran into them," the mercenary snorted.
"Do you think you're the only Pokémon that made that mistake when dealing with them?"
"Well… but, I- ergh…" Sevan faltered, failing to find a counterpoint to his brother's question. His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, the older Samurott contemplating the situation for a bit before finally looking back up at Lyn and giving his begrudging answer.
"… Fine. I'll help you," Sevan sighed. "For a price."
"How much?" Lyn asked. "And Poké, or-"
"Keep your Company money, Lyn!" his brother snapped. "The price that I want is what you're going to do with those kids after you find them."
"And just what would that be?" Lyn demanded.
"I want you to go easy on those kids once you get them," Sevan said. "I doubt they fully understand what they're into, and you know as well as I do what it's like to suffer because of someone else's actions."
Lyn scowled and tensed his paws against the sand on the seafloor. The Water-Type paused and stared at his sibling, carefully mulling over his next words. Finally, he sighed and shook his head.
"Fine. I promise that I won't punish them for what their companions did," Lyn replied. "I'm a bigger 'mon than that."
Sevan sighed, feeling a twinge of pre-emptive regret for what he was about to say. Even if he could hold Lyn to his word, gambling with the wellbeing of his own employer felt wrong to him. Despite that, he'd already given his promise to his brother… Begrudgingly, he finally offered what information he could spare.
"They went to Sormus with a local guide," Sevan answered. "It sounded like they were planning on heading deep into imperial waters."
"Hmph, thanks for the heads-up," the Commissioner grunted. "Anything else?"
"This isn't who you have to be, Lyn," Sevan said.
Lyn's eyes narrowed, staring harshly over at his brother. Sevan met his gaze, tensing up slightly under his withering glare.
"I could say the same to you, but I honor your decisions," Lyn snapped. "I expect you to do the same."
Sevan hung his head, heaving a resigned sigh. His brother hadn't been like this in bygone, more innocent days, but… was it really so foolish to hope to see a bit of his brighter former self in him? Whatever the case, if such a personality change would ever happen, it seemed now wasn't the time.
"So be it," Sevan muttered. "Good luck with your mission, Lyn."
"The same to you, I wish you the best," Lyn replied. "Who knows, maybe we'll meet again after things settle down."
The Commissioner leapt up and cut through the wall, seawater washing over his body and into a freshly punched hole. The otter climbed in the water and began swimming for the surface, a knowing smile creeping over his muzzle all the while. With the Lugia and his friends' element of secrecy spent, the Protector, and his promotion to Administrator were finally within grasp again.
"You won't escape me this time, Guardian."
Author's Notes:
- (¡)Cuidado! - Spanish: "Be careful!" / "Watch out!"
- svetilishte (свeтилищe) - Bulgarian: "sanctuary" (location) (BGN/PCGN Romanization)
- Anois - Irish: "Now"
- Chigau yo! (違うよ!) - Japanese: "No!" (emphatic) (Hepburn Romanization)
- Nieważne - Polish: "Whatever"
