Chapter 59b: Reversal of Fortune, Part 2


After Team Traveller's battle, the rounds of the Silver Wing Cup continued on in the arena, crowning upstart victors and dethroning rising stars from the eighth-finals of the tournament. From their place in the stands, the victory over Team Iron had taken a weight off of Nida, Elty, and Guardia's shoulders, especially after the Cubone came to in the medic's hall and returned to the stands after the application of a Reviver Seed and some Oran paste. Even so, the cloud of anxiety over the group had not fully departed them, as Team Swellow huddled together during the halftime of the eighth-finals, strategizing their options for how to deal with what was set to be a grueling match with one 'Team Blue Sun'.

"Eh? Kiran, are you sure that it makes sense to field Pladur, Ander, and yourself against Team Blue Sun?" Nida asked.

"Yeah, isn't their heavy hitter an Ice-Type?" Elty added. "That sounds like a recipe for disaster if I ever heard it."

"That's just the lot we were dealt," Ander sighed. "Dimitri's not in shape for a second battle today, and Crom would be in the same boat as the rest of us without being any fresher for fighting."

"Egh… that sounds more like the moment you'd call for allies to help," Guardia grumbled. "Which this hut colony's backwards rules of battle forbid."

"I know it'll be an uphill battle, but it's nothing that we can't handle with the right strategy and Tromban spirit!" Kiran insisted, puffing his chest out. The Swellow waited for a moment, beak upturned into an expectant grin... but instead of the rousing 'hurrah' he had anticipated, the only reaction he drew from his companions was some uncomfortable shifting-around and uneasy looks that darted to and fro among the lot.

"Eh… I don't know about this, Kiran…" Pladur murmured, only to be answered with an excited wingbeat.

"Nonsense! It's been the key for our island being able to overcome daunting odds!" the Flying-Type insisted. "Just look at what everyone went through when Darzin was thrown out from the village!"

Pladur paused and thought about that fateful day, only for his thoughts to turn to envisioning a rampaging Marley charging ahead. The Fraxure blanched as a shiver went down his spine, hastily shaking his head back at the Swellow.

"That's not really helping, Kiran…" he gulped. "H-How am I supposed to do anything against a team like Team Blue Sun?"

"You're supposed to be the toughest fighter on our team after a Dragon Dance or two, right?" Dimitri asked. "So just hang in there and keep your nerve, and you should be able to turn things around!"

"I was also under the impression that that was our basic strategy myself," Ander added, the mantis' affirmation doing little to dispel the cloud of anxiety surrounding his Fraxure teammate.

"But- But-"

"Soooo, my dear audience, I think I speak for us all when I say I'm tired of this intermission!" a Rotom's voice crackled. "How about we get this next set of battles underway?"

In one voice, the audience hooted and hollered back an affirmation. After taking in a moment to savor the crowd's adulation, Thalez flitted up, cheerily carrying on with his announcements.

"Good! Then let's have the next two teams enter the battlefield right now!" the Rotom buzzed. "This festival of mayhem must go on!"

"That's our cue," Kiran remarked. "Wish us luck out there?"

"Yeah, we will," Nida said. "After all, Pleo's counting on us too!"

"Show them what we're made of, dad!" Crom cheered, the Druddigon's well-wishes being joined by Guardia from her resting place beside him.

"Yeah, knock 'em dead!"

The three Pokémon set off into the arena pit, coming out onto a sandy battlefield laid out much as a desert clearing flecked with small rocks. There, at the other end, Kiran noticed a Weavile in a scarf with a blue sun pattern lead in an Electabuzz and Tauros that snickered with one another. An uncomfortably familiar Electabuzz and Tauros… which stirred up an ominous feeling for the Swellow that something was dreadfully amiss right now.

"Is something wrong, Kiran?" Ander whispered.

"I've seen that Tauros and Electabuzz before…" the Swellow muttered. "I can't remember exactly when, but I have a bad-"

"Hey, Fraxure."

Pladur blinked and turned his head over towards the Weavile on the other side of the field. The Dark-Type nonchalantly shifted himself, before peering off at the stands… square at Crom.

"That Druddigon there spectating in the stands…" Ketu murmured. "He's your kid, isn't he?"

"Oh? Uh…" Pladur stammered. "Well yeah, he is."

The Weavile curled his mouth up into a small smirk and closed his eyes, before shrugging his shoulders.

"He certainly looks to be in better shape than when we threw him off our ship like a piece of garbage," the Sharp Claw Pokémon said. "Sure hope that weakness of his doesn't run in your side of the family."

At once, Kiran and Ander hopped back with a start at Ketu's words. From his place before the Weavile, Pladur went wide-eyed and spluttered out of shock.

"Wh-what?!"

"And to the left, we have our favorite rising stars in this tournament!" Thalez cheered. "Team Blue Sun!"

The crowd immediately broke out into applause, prompting Ketu to turn and wave to his admirers. At the other end of the battlefield, the initial shock of the Dark-Type's taunt began to wear off, the three starting to realize that this Weavile- no, his entire team must be from none other than Lyn's crew! At once, Pladur set his teeth on edge, growling and flashing his claws as he felt his blood boil in his veins as the implications of the taunt and what it meant for his child dawned on him.

"You- You're from that awful ship!" Pladur cried. "The one that stole our Protector!"

"Brilliant deduction there. I'm its first mate," Ketu scoffed back. "And what's your point?"

"How- How dare you show your face here, you miserable furball!" the Fraxure snarled.

"Ooh, looks like the battlefield's heating up already!" Thalez continued. "To the right we have Team Swanna-!"

The Rotom's voice abruptly paused and trailed off as he floated up and raised an arm over his eyes. The Ghost-Type peered down onto the field and blinked incredulously, realizing the team had taken a peculiar turn since the last match.

"… With a Marked teammate at a tournament for our new Protector?!" he exclaimed. "Those Trombans sure have chosen a different strategy this time!"

At once, the stands of the arena erupted in a throng of boos and jeers, their ire swelling up much like a rogue wave and crashing down on Ander and his teammates.

"Go home, blotch-head!"

"Yeah, we don't need Pokémon like you near our Protector!"

The members of Team Swellow shifted uneasily under the torrent of abuse, serving to dampen their already shaky confidence about their odds in the upcoming match. Judging by his demeanor, the opposing Weavile had come to the same conclusion, and was clearly relishing his foes' doubts with a smug grin plastered on his face.

"You should know when to fold them, Fraxure. It's not too late if you and your team want to forfeit," Ketu sneered. "It would spare you the humiliation of being beaten into a pulp in front of your own Protector."

"W-We'll never surrender to the likes of you!" Pladur insisted. The Fraxure growled with all the bravado he could muster, glaring daggers as Thalez's crackling voice chimed in.

"Well, let's not keep these passions bottled up any longer! Let's get this battle started!"

The two teams took their marks at opposite ends of the sandy battlefield, easing into battle stances and staring each other down from their respective sides. From Team Swellow's end, Pladur's breath came out in seething pants, while his teammates traded worried looks with each other. For their part, Ketu and his teammates seemed to not think much of their opponents' posturing, the lot of them shooting jeers and taunting glances back.

"So be it," Ketu scoffed. "In that case... which of you Tromban hicks wants to have a bad time first?"

"Three! Two! One! GO!"

The countdown flew by with a collective chant from the stands, sending the Pokémon of both Team Swellow and Team Blue Sun flying down the battlefield. Up at the head of his team, Kiran darted ahead for the middle of the field, turning back to call out to his Fraxure teammate.

"Pladur! Keep your distance!" the Swellow squawked. "We'll try to keep them busy while you prepare!"

The Fraxure flew into a frenetic, stomping dance as fiery blue lights swirled around him, his Swellow partner flying up and readying his wings for a crushing strike. Kiran dove, barreling towards the form of the Weavile below as he leveled out his body for a Wing Attack, only to see his foe slip out of view and feel his wings strike air.

"Huh?!"

The Swellow was cut off by a freezing, stabbing pain at his breast, making him stagger and look down to see a cluster of icy shards lodged between his feathers. The Flying-Type fought to maintain his balance, reeling from blows that stung far worse than he'd expected for a simple Ice Shard, when he saw the Weavile slip ahead of him and pull an ice-slicked fist back. Kiran pulled up in a panic, tearing into the air as he felt the Ice Punch just miss his feathers, and heard a mocking voice call out after him.

"If that's the best you can do, you ought to just give up already!"

Further down the field, Ander charged the Electabuzz, weaving back and forth as the Electric-Type shot out arcs of static at him. One after the other, the thundery moves missed their mark, prompting the Electabuzz to opt for a different tactic and let his foe approach him, pulling a fist back as electricity danced on his knuckles.

"Come and get it, you overgrown insect!"

Tarmo swung his fist out, bringing it square for the Scyther's jaw… only to miss and strike air. The Electric-Type went wide-eyed, with the next sensation he felt being a slashing pain on his arm, sending him skidding back as he cradled his arm from a swipe from Ander's scythes.

"Eyargh!"

"Pladur! How's that setup com- ARGH!"

Ander's words were cut off by a crushing blow from his side, as he felt a hefty body tackle him and throw him to the ground. The mantis tried to right himself, only to feel a horn wedge itself in between his body's segments, looking up to see a Tauros pinning him down. The Bug-Type screeched and thrashed his scythes wildly, desperately scrabbling to freedom after forcing the bull off of him with a yelp.

Further away, Ketu bounded down the battlefield, starting to chase after Kiran only to notice Pladur from the corner of his eye. The Dragon-Type was continuing the movements of his Dragon Dance, prompting him to scoff and train his attention to the Fraxure.

"You know, we heard what you guys were doing way back when the Protector was still on Boisocéan," the Weavile said. "Wanna know what we did in response?"

Ice began to build up on Ketu's claw, before the Weavile flicked forward a large, jagged chunk of ice at Pladur's feet. At once, the Dragon-Type yanked his foot away, only to lose his footing and flail.

"A-Agh!"

Ketu sneered as Pladur slipped, the Fraxure falling flat onto his back as the blue dragonfire around him dissipated. Eager to rub salt in the wound, the Weavile flashed his claws, narrowing his eyes at the stricken dragon.

"Nothing! Because it wasn't worth wasting our effort trying to stop a bunch of sad sacks like you!"

Pladur threw himself up to his feet, hate smoldering in his eyes as the dragonfire returned and he re-entered his war dance. Ketu gave a scoff, and readied his claws to pounce...

"Gwooooah!"

… only to be cut off by the sound of a startled bellow. The Weavile looked left to see his Tauros teammate sailing through the air away from a whirling wind and crashing into the side of the arena. The Dark-Type turned his head back, where there circling in the air was the form of his Swellow foe, calling out to his Scyther teammate below

"Ander! Now's your chance!" he cried. Without prompting, the mantis flicked out his scythes and rushed ahead at the Electabuzz. The Electric-Type stood his ground, and let static build on his pelt, gathering it up in a thick, jagged arc that shot out just as the Bug-Type descended on him.

"Aaaah!"

"Hah hah! That's right, bug!" Tarmo jeered. "Just stay nice and-"

The Electric-Type was cut off by the sight of Ander swiping his scythes in a cross-shaped strike that sliced his belly and launched the Electabuzz backwards. Tarmo tumbled back, coming to a groaning, sparking stop on the ground as Ander panted out of exhaustion. The Electabuzz's defeat quickly drew the attention of his teammates, including Ketu, who turned away from his toying with his Fraxure foe and trained his attention on the winded Scyther.

"... I'll deal with you later, lizard."

The Weavile ran towards the Scyther, prompting the Bug-Type and his Swellow partner to take notice and brace themselves, readying attacks to try and stop the Dark-Type in his tracks.

"We'll take on the Weavile!" Kiran cried. "He can't dodge forever!"

The Swellow attempted to start things off with a whirling burst of wind, prompting Ketu to roll out of the way before springing towards him. Kiran attempted to fall back, only to be cut off by a heavy, icy blow from behind.

"Gyah!"

Ketu watched as the Swellow pinwheeled and crashed to earth, twitching weakly on the sandy battlefield. The Weavile cracked a satisfied smile only to hear a buzzing sound come from his side, prompting him to duck as a scythe slid overhead, slicing the tip of his right ear feather off. The Dark-Type looked up seething at the sight of Team Swellow's Marked Scyther pulling his scythes back from a missed swing, and slid between the legs of the mantis. Ander cried out in alarm, hastily whirling around to attack his foe again with a cross-shaped strike with his blades. Ketu hopped back, allowing the Scyther's blades to swing out in front of him. As Ander tried to bring them in, the Weavile jumped up onto his scythes and raised an icy fist back, bringing it square into the Scyther's chin with a frigid uppercut.

"A-Aaaah!"

Ketu hastily hopped off, leaving the bug to topple backward onto the arena floor with a dull thud. The Dark-Type stepped on the fainted Scyther's thorax, giving an annoyed brush at his severed feather-tip when he heard a loud growl, and saw that Pladur had freshly finished his second Dragon Dance.

"Like I was saying earlier, Fraxure, what did we have to fear from some Tromban hicks bumbling around from port to port around the Cradle?" Ketu taunted. "If you couldn't defend your own kid, what were you going to accomplish other than some meaningless errands on shore?

The Fraxure roared back in rage and planted his feet to spring forward, only for his cry to be answered in kind by a loud bellow and the sound of trampling hoofbeats approaching.

"Time to go down like your kid, lizard!"

Fintan lowered his horns and charged ahead, aiming to run down the Fraxure in his path. The Tauros watched as the Dragon-Type slipped under his body, the Normal-Type going wide-eyed as he felt his horns connect with the air, followed by a pair of piercing stabs at his hindgut. The bull bellowed in pain, wrenching his head back to see Pladur's left tusk buried deep into his abdomen by his legs. The dragon snarled and wrenched his tusk out, making the Tauros' tails shoot out along with an agonized scream. The Fraxure fell back, leaving his Normal-Type opponent's legs barely able to support his weight, Fintan's attempts at trying to regain momentum accomplishing little other than to stagger along with a shambling totter as he felt a warm fluid ooze down his legs.

"Nnr-urgh…"

The Tauros weakly tried to raise his head to scan his surroundings, looking up just in time to see Pladur lunge off the ground towards him. For a fleeting second, the bull watched as the Fraxure neared, his blood-red eyes burning with hate as he spread a set of claws and swiped them downwards...

WHAM!

Fintan's forelegs buckled and his head slammed down into the arena floor after the claw swipe, leaving his rear legs still struggling before they gave in and let their owner slump forward. Pladur looked down at the felled Normal-Type, panting and fighting back the urge to spit on his child's tormentor, when the sound of a slow clap drew his attention back to Ketu nonchalantly observing.

"So you do have a few tricks up your sleeve," the Weavile scoffed. "Guess you picked up something useful in that boring adventure of yours after all!"

The Dark-Type was answered by a loud roar, watching as the remaining fighter from Team Swellow flashed his claws and fangs. Pladur seethed, every scale on his body coursing with visible rage and hatred for the black-furred monster who stared him down.

"Cállate!"

The Fraxure charged ahead, readying his claws for a swipe as they trailed flecks of dragonfire. Ketu braced himself, ready to spring out of the Dragon-Type's way only to realize that he was coming fast… too fast.

THWACK!

"Grah!"

The Weavile tumbled back as pain shot through his body, sending him skidding along the ground. Hecame to a stop, coughing from the dust kicked up from the arena floor and moving a claw over his flank that now dribbled a few droplets of blood. Ketu looked up with an angry scowl, staring down a panting Fraxure glaring back at him with a look that could kill.

"You Company types always act like you're masters of the world, that nothing can ever go bad for you!" Pladur bellowed. "Well, I'm here, and I'm about to show you just how wrong you are!"

"Fine, enough toying around then," Ketu hissed. "I guess we're doing this the hard way!"

Pladur roared and charged again, the scent of victory and vengeance spurring him on. The Dragon-Type raised his claws, ready to tear his son's tormentor limb from limb in front of the baying crowd.

"Say your prayers, you lousy red-feathered-!"

Before the dragon could react, he was hit by a freezing wind that numbed his joints and slowed his movements. The Fraxure carried on, fighting with his frigid limbs to keep pressing forward, only to catch a glimpse of the Weavile rapidly descending upon him and drawing back a punch aimed for his face.

"Aaaaaah!"

Pladur tumbled back and sprawled out onto the arena floor, breathing haggardly. At once, the fire in his belly that had driven him on died, and a flood of fear took its place. He was now completely alone and down to the last of his strength, fighting against a Pokémon who'd dispatched his teammates without seeming to break a sweat. The Fraxure did his best to stay conscious and hastily tried to rise to his feet, any thoughts of vengeance and victory now replaced with an urge to flee and spirit his son away for dear life from this demon here with him.

"Game over, skink!"

The Dragon-Type went wide-eyed as he saw Ketu standing above him, prompting him to throw his claws over his face to try and shield himself. Pladur watched Ketu raise his claw trailing shadows… angled further down at his body. The Fraxure suddenly realized that the square-neck had intended to throw his blow elsewhere all along and frantically threw his claws ahead to try and stop it… only for the Dark-Type's claw to slip past the tips of Pladur's claws and plunge into his stomach.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

The dragon screamed as he felt an agonizing pain shoot through his body, thrashing as he felt the slicing claw dig across his stomach before wrenching free. Pladur curled up and turned onto his flank, instinctively throwing his claws over his wound and whimpering from pain and shock. He began to feel lightheaded and looked down to see blood oozing between his ruddy claws and onto the sand. The world started to go blurry, the sounds of the arena going indistinct where for a fleeting moment, he saw Crom in the stands with a crushed, horrified stare looking back at him. Pladur reached out a claw weakly, hoping to try and reassure his child that somehow everything would be alright...

"Crom…"

The world then went black, and Pladur stopped moving on the battlefield. Unbeknownst to the motionless Fraxure, the stadium erupted in loud cheering, with Thalez taking his place in front of one of the glistening badges used to transmit his announcements to the audience.

"And Team Blue Sun takes it with a stunning finisher!" the Rotom boomed. "We've got a winner!"

The stands' roar continued, prompting Ketu to flash his claws triumphantly and wave to the audience. His right claw was still stained a bright crimson from his opponent's blood, but seemingly did little to sway the enthralled and enraptured spectators.

"D-Dad!"

The hubbub in the crowds quieted as a young Druddigon ran onto the field, the cheers giving way to the sound of distraught bawling. Crom crouched over his father, tears running down his face as his voice came out in hitched sobs. Nida and Elty ran up after him, their faces fixed in ashen grimaces as the festive atmosphere in the stands had vanished into a cloud of unease, which seemed to suck in even Thalez.

"Er… it appears we may be having technical difficulties on the field..." the Rotom stammered from his booth, before hastily turning back to a shaded corridor with a murmur. "Wait, was this a scripted event? I thought that we were aiming to keep the crowds excited, not bring the whole mood down."

Nida and Elty neared their Druddigon teammate, staring at a loss for words as they watched him sob over the unmoving form of the Fraxure on the field. The two ran up, noticing Pladur's chest rising weakly before their gaze drifted towards the blood on the sand which made them shrink back, when a disgusted growl caught their attention from behind.

"Gah… what a mess."

The three youngsters looked up to see Ketu flick out the digits of his right claw, brushing off a film of bright-red liquid off of them. At once, Crom's mouth hung open and the Druddigon crouched against his father's body, quivering out of fright, his teammates growling back with forced bravado at the Weavile.

"As if that nicked feather wasn't enough… Now I've gotta wash all this blood off my claw."

"Wh-What is wrong with you, you canalla?!" Nida snapped. "You leave a 'mon bleeding on the ground and all you care about is your stupid claw being dirty!"

The Weavile looked back wordlessly for a brief moment, before shaking his head with a low scoff.

"What can I say? In my normal line of work, you sometimes make a few messes," Ketu said. "You're small though, so who knows? Maybe you'll be a bit tidier for me to deal with tomorrow."

Nida and Elty paused, staring back at the Weavile as an uneasy feeling rose in their stomachs. 'Tidier to deal with'? As in deal with them?

"… Just what do you mean by that?" Elty demanded.

"What I mean is that you'll be facing me next round, brats," Ketu sneered. "So start thinking about if you want to bother showing your little faces or not."

"How would you know that?" Nida demanded. "The matchups are chosen randomly between rounds!"

"That sure didn't stop me from getting the foes I wanted in this match," the Dark-Type retorted. "Though good luck finding any proof of that to show the refs before tomorrow."

Nida and Elty flushed an unhealthy pale color at the Weavile's words. He set this match with Team Swellow up? Then that meant that he was rigging the matches! And after doing what he did to Crom's father, he wanted to face them next…?

The pair stood staring off into space a moment, Ketu turning to leave as Crom continued to sniffle over his stricken father. The Weavilel looked back, and curled his muzzle into a cruel smile.

"Oh, by the way… Lyn sends his regards," Ketu said. "He's looking forward to seeing all of you back in your pathetic little town where you belong… in pieces."

The Weavile turned and left, cavalierly stepping past his felled teammates as he departed the arena pit. All the while, Team Traveller's members gazed ahead blankly and stammered, the color from their faces having ebbed away as a team of Pokémon in red scarves with semi-circle patterns ran up.

"Come on, we need to get this wound looked at stat!" the Blissey insisted. The group started loading the fallen members of Team Swellow onto stretchers, Crom hastily following after his father as a Granbull noticed Nida and Elty still frozen in place on the battlefield.

"Are these your teammates?" he asked. "Are you kids coming along?"

"Y-Yeah, we're coming…" the Nidoran finally managed. "We're coming…"

Nida and Elty watched as a still-sniffling Crom headed off with the medics and the wounded members of Team Swellow. The two saw their remaining compatriots leave the stands to follow after the Druddigon, prompting them to join and trudge along after the medics. Their hope of continuing on in the tournament vanished entirely, as the gnawing dread of impending doom and impossible hurdles staring them down took over.


Outside of the stadium, Valatos and his companions had slunk off, making their way limping down back alleys in what was becoming an increasingly familiar ritual to them as the disused lighthouse of the Vecioférale Arena towered in the background. The three were battered and still sporting bandages from their defeat, and opted to ditch their teammates from Team Iron rather than put up with the earful for 'losing to a bunch of hick kids'. Time and time again, the trio tried to piece together how their defeat had happened... how they possibly could have lost to a team that they had no trouble putting on the ropes back in Kenobi.

"Gah… I didn't remember those little canàje hitting this hard last time," Alvise groaned. "And I still didn't get a chance to zap them thanks to that stupid lizard with them!"

"Yeah, they were supposed to be an easy sweep!" Nori whined.

"Well, they weren't, okay?" Valatos hissed. "Let's just get back to the ship and crash a bit."

The Yanmega's retort prompted Nori to pause to catch his breath, leaning against the wall for support. Berating or not, the Ground-Type was beginning to regret not having a healthier set of shoulders to lean on. Judging from the lack of company beyond clutter and clotheslines in the current alley, it was a fair assumption that no one would step up here to help them limp back to the ship.

"… Shouldn't we have gone back with the other half of the team, though?" the Marowak insisted. "Maybe they'd have some idea for what we could tell the Captain about getting that bird-"

"I don't want to hear it, Nori!" Valatos shouted, the angry dragonfly's hissing being quickly joined by a scoff from his Manectric counterpart.

"Yeah, besides. Those idiots were going to take the main canal back," Alvise added. "The better we stick to these backroads, the better we can stay out of trouble-"

"Agh!"

The three paused and rose to attention as the sound of a yelp rang out in the alleyway. A crash followed, along with the sound of a body thudding, of thunder crackling, and footsteps running for dear life.

"Q-Quick! This way!" a rough voice cried. The first voice was soon joined by a higher-pitched voice shouting back.

"Yeah, we'll shake 'em through the alleyway!"

The three watched as a rough-looking Vigoroth and Steenee tore through the alley intersection ahead in a panic, slipping away as fast as they appeared. Alvise's fur shot up in a panic, while Valatos and Nori paced ahead tensely trying to make sense of what had happened.

"Hey, what the-?" Valatos began.

"Uh… on second thought," Alvise stammered. "Those main canals aren't sounding so ba-"

"Just shut up and let's check it out!"

Valatos flitted ahead, prompting Alvise to try and turn away only to be caught and drug along by his tail by Nori. The Yanmega made his way forward as his teammates fought with each other in the background, lingering in the intersection of alleyways between multistoried stone buildings. The dragonfly looked about his surroundings, seeing naught but some dingy stairwells, scrawled graffiti on the walls, and litter.

"Why there's nothing he- Agh!"

The trio was promptly struck by several other Pokémon coming around the corner, sending the three tumbling back while yelps rang out. As Valatos and his buddies dusted themselves off and looked ahead of them, they saw a black scarved-Manectric, alongside a Swampert lying on his back and a half-buried Salazzle.

"Agh… my fins," the Swampert groaned, only to be answered by an exasperated rejoinder from the Salazzle underneath.

"Carlo, get off of me, you fat lug!" Giusy hissed. "I can barely breathe!"

"Ow! Watch where you're going!" Nori snapped, pointing his club at the stranger Manectric.

"I could say the same to you, you lousy liz-"

Luca got up, and after noticing the voice addressing him, hopped back and braced himself with a growl. There in front of him was the Marowak who'd caved in the stadium passage the other day, his Yanmega buddy, and most importantly his brother.

"You again?!" Luca growled. "What are you three doing showing your ugly mugs back around our turf, huh?"

"What are you doing running around and playing touch-tail like a bunch of hatchlings?" Valatos spat. The Yanmega's outburst was swiftly met with a trio of glares from the other Manectric along with his Swampert and Salazzle partners, which made Alvise set his teeth on edge and gulp.

"Uhm… what he meant to say was… we were just leaving?" he offered.

"Hey, Luca," Giusy said. "You think these three got anything to do with those street punks?"

"Yeah, they sure seem to have a habit of interfering with us right when we're getting to the bottom of something with those mooks," Carlo huffed, which promptly made Nori's eyes widen with a start.

"Eh?! Th-That's not it at all!" he exclaimed. "We were heading back to our ship!"

"Well, you ain't now," Luca growled. "I'm not the one to pass things off as coincidence, and besides…"

The older Manectric pointed out a paw at his white-scarved counterpart, shooting a fierce glare that seemed to drain the color from Alvise's face.

"Your friend there has a family reunion to take care of."

Alvise pulled his tail between his legs at the mention of a 'family reunion'. The Electric-Type backpedaled with a wide-eyed stammer as thoughts of what said 'reunion' might entail flashed through his mind.

"L-Luca! Come on!" the younger Manectric whined. "We can talk this out!"

Alvise's panic drew a dismissive beat of Valatos' wings. The dragonfly hissed back, and despite the injuries from his earlier battle against Team Traveller, flitted forward menacingly, determined not to let the nobody from yesterday chase him off once again.

"Hey bub, I don't know what you're up to," the Bug-Type hissed. "But I don't take orders from some random shlub off the street-EYAAAH!"

The Yanmega shrieked as a bolt of lightning shot out from the black-scarved Manectric and enveloped him, sending him crashing limply to the ground. At once, his teammates' nerves failed them, prompting them to go wide-eyed and Alvise to raise the call for retreat.

"Run for it!"

Alvise and Nori turned and bolted as a searing gout of fire and an exploding ball of mud nipped at their heels and tails, kicking up a shower of dust and litter. The pair ducked as an arc of electricity shot overhead, turning their attention rightward to a low fence. Instinctively, the two hopped up, hoisting themselves up over the fenceline, only for a sharp shout to ring out behind them.

"Carlo, Orb 'em!"

The Swampert fished through a rucksack and dug out a blue orb crackling with sparks under its surface and hurled it at the fenceline. The sphere struck the wood of the barrier, exploding into a shower of glass and sparks that caught up the fleeing Manectric and Marowak. The duo yelped and froze at the top, before lurching over the edge headfirst.

CRASH!

The sound of splintering wood rang out, prompting Luca and his subordinates to run up to the fenceline. After nearing it, the three Pokémon paused as they noticed the sound of pained groans... along with a curious clattering sound whenever the two Pokémon on the other end moved.

"My back…"

"I can't see anything!" Nori cried. "Who turned out the lights?!"

"… Isn't that the spot where the Pokémon on this block leave their trash for pickup?" Giusy asked. The Salazzle's words were met with silence, followed by a sniff from her Manectric partner's snout that confirmed the stale, rancid smell of grime and decomposing waste. The Electric-Type furrowed his brow in disgust, before giving a shake of his head.

"Hrmph. Drag the bug along and tell Valerio to bring his wagon by this dump's gate," Luca barked. "We've got some other trash to bring back to our hideout."

The Salazzle scampered off, leaving Luca and Carlo to carry down the alleyway until they saw an intersection heading right. The pair turned, making their way down the right until they reached an entrance to a yard filled with heap of rubbish and spoiled food… with Nori and Alvise sprawled out amidst a pile of sullied, broken-down boxes. The pair watched as Nori staggered up with his head covered in a crate, tugging futilely at the box to free himself, only for the black-scarved Swampert to throw a hand around his shoulder and grip tightly.

"Come on, bub," the Swampert growled. "We're going."

"Hey! Hanashite!" Nori yelped. "Get off of me!"

The bone lizard flailed as best as his paralyzed body allowed, only to be promptly knocked down with a jet of water, and unceremoniously dragged off by his tail by the Swampert. On the trash heap, Alvise struggled to get away, only to slip and tumble backwards, coming to a stop in front of his brother. Luca at once pounced on his sibling from his flank, planting his feet on Alvise's back as he glared down.

"Nice try, furbrain," the larger Manectric snarled. "But you're not getting away with crossing your own family this time."

With that, Luca dug his teeth into his brother's scarf, dragging Alvise along kicking and flailing for the exit of the rubbish yard. At the front, a covered cart pulled along by a Zebstrika came to a rolling stop, a Yanmega's tail poking out of the end. The black-scarved trio shoved the dragonfly's body back and unceremoniously dumped their new captives into the cart before drawing the covers shut, walking along with the cart and its puller as if nothing had happened.


Around the same time, Team Traveller paced uneasily in a shaded medic's bay in the stadium's underlevels. The space consisted of a long, stone hall partitioned with retractable curtains that closed off sections of straw bedding, tired groans coming from behind some curtains where more thoroughly defeated contestants lay licking their wounds. In one of those partitions, Pladur's companions including a still-woozy Kiran and Ander watched as a Blissey tended to the form of a Fraxure stretched out on a straw pile, along with the anxious faces of Vicente, Natrix, and Philips having freshly run from the Siglo Swellow at the news of Pladur's calamitous defeat.

The Dragon-Type was in horrid shape, with scrapes flecking his body, and a set of large bandages wrapping around his stomach that sported an ugly red stain along with flecks of blue from the juices of Oran berries. All the while, the Fraxure never showed any signs of lucidity, and barring the rising of his chest and the occasional groan or whimper, of life at all. The atmosphere in Pladur's corner of the hall had been grave since his arrival, with Crom anxiously shadowing the Blissey's movements as he tried to get reassurances that his father wasn't as hurt as he feared.

"Is he gonna be alright...?" he asked.

"It's nothing we haven't patched up before, but he's been hit pretty badly," the Blissey answered. "He should be able to get back on his feet after a week of bedrest as long as his wounds are kept treated."

The medic's answer set the teeth of the youngsters in the group on-edge with a grimace. Crom peered down at his father's stricken form, looking up uneasily at the Blissey.

"A… week?" the Druddigon gulped.

"Well, you weren't planning on just pushing a Reviver Seed down his throat and throwing him back out into battle with a wound like this, were you?" the Blissey questioned. "While most Pokémon can bounce back from a hard knock or two, even a hardened fighter's body has its limits."

An air of gloom settled over the gathered Pokémon at the Blissey's words, their reaction looking only marginally better than the one she would've expected had the Fraxure expired on the spot. The medic sighed and shook her head, reasoning that it must merely be the natural reaction by hopeful competitors to such a crushing defeat.

"… I know that it's probably not what you wanted to hear as entrants to the tournament, but that's how things are," the Blissey sighed, before rising to take her leave.

"I'll give you some space to be alone with your friend," she said. "But again, don't push him."

The Blissey shuffled off, sliding the curtained panel shut over the space around the straw bedding. Freshly alone, the members of Team Traveller and the Siglo Swello's crew glumly traded looks with one another, shaking their heads at the news.

"Whelp, that's it I guess," Elty muttered. "We're doomed here."

"Maybe if we work together we might win after all…?" Guardia offered. The Cubone's question was promptly answered by a groan, prompting them to look over to see Pladur stirring weakly on his bedding. The group watched as he tried to turn over onto his belly, before falling back onto his back, prompting Elty to shake his head.

"… Nope, definitely doomed."

"How are we supposed to get Pleo back now?" Nida cried. "Even if that horrid Weavile doesn't fight dirty like he did today, there's no way that we'd be able to beat him."

"We do what we can and take the only option left," the Siglo Swellow's Hitmontop first mate answered. "Springing Pleo and getting out of here."

Vicente's suggestion was at once answered by a startled buzz from a haggard-looking Scyther. From his place leaning against the poles holding up the curtain, Ander staggered forward, shooting a look at the Hitmontop that appeared as if he'd suddenly sprouted another head.

"You can't be serious with that!" the mantis exclaimed. "We're in the middle of the Imperial capital! How would we even get off this island without being sunk?!"

"Getting off the island is not what I'm worried about. We've dealt with slipping cargo past customs under tighter circumstances before…" Vicente replied. "It's more getting the Protector to begin with."

The Hitmontop's admonishment prompted his fellows to pause and think. They had an idea of where Pleo would be in Tidemill… but to get there, there would be the guards to fight through, and the garrisons with even more guards outside, and the defensive walls, and the frigates and galleons of the navy… Why, what were they to do facing obstacles like those?!

"… I don't know what can be done. We don't exactly have the strength to storm the gates of where he's being held in the stadium…" Kiran murmured, only to be met with a shake of Dimitri's head.

"Well, we'd better figure out something quick," the Kabutops said. "Last I checked, only teams along with invited guests have full access to the entire stadium. And I wouldn't put money on us being able to do that past the kids' match tomorrow."

Nida shifted uncomfortably, finding that no matter what scheme she bandied around, she simply couldn't think of anything that would give her and the Siglo Swellow's crew a hope of retrieving Pleo. Based off of the grimaces and silence in the room as she looked around, the Nidoran surmised that everyone else was having much the same problem.

The Poison-Type turned her attention to the window, where she saw the sky was growing dark, and the first lanterns of the night were starting to be lit. She folded her ears back, realizing that Cardino had sought out their help tonight… As bad as things were, they hadn't collected their pay yet for their work on the case, and it wasn't as if they were getting any more ideas just sitting around here...

"I... don't really know either. But I do know that Cardino asked us to visit him in about half an hour," Nida sighed. "I'm not sure what it's about exactly aside from getting paid, but maybe stretching our legs a little would help us come up with something?"

"… That's fair enough," Natrix murmured. "We'll do our part talking with Captain Beatrix and the others to see what we can do about Pleo, too."

Elty and Guardia shuffled off, making their way past the piles of straw bedding for the room's stone doorway. Nida turned and started to follow after them, only to see Crom standing at his father's bedside, still visibly shaken.

"… Are you going to be okay, Crom?" Nida asked.

"I… I don't know," the Druddigon stammered. "But I think that I just need some time with my dad..."

The Nidoran stared after the dragon, looking away with a vague sense of guilt, as if there was something she could be doing right now to help her friend. She shook her head uneasily, rationalizing that Crom himself would know what he needed most right now. If he truly needed a moment alone, then it was for the best to let him have it.

"… I understand," Nida said. "We'll be back as soon as we can, okay?"

The Druddigon nodded back glumly, prompting Nida to turn and leave slowly and in similarly lowered spirits. The Nidoran carried along to catch up with her teammate, her mind wondering all the while just how they could possibly get out of their present jam.


"Are you sure this is a good idea, Cabot?"

Berecien shifted uneasily with his teammates at the steps of a short, squat hut that had been built alongside a spindly canal that hugged the interior of the citadel's wall, with water slipping in through grates at its base. Such quarters were a far cry from the pomp and grandeur of Queen Aleria's palace in the background. Cottages like these were normally set aside for the guards and servants who helped to staff the various buildings within the walled compounds. The house had been built with simple stone and a shallowly sloped roof of wooden shingles, with the only sign at all that it belonged to someone other than the likes of a common gardener being a small coat-of-arms depicting a ship and crossed claws hung over the doorway.

The young Protector shifting uneasily in their midst had been thrust into a gloomy mood since the wrenching defeat of... what was it, 'Team Swanna'? Some random team that could have surely been pushed aside with a night of post-tutoring amusements and reassurances about the competence of Imperial medics… had they not somehow had ties to the sea rats they picked up with the small Lugia. Yet for some daft reason, instead of leading the Protector to a playroom, the Citadel's gardens, or even just a rooftop to stargaze, Cabot had deigned to try and distract the seabird... by dragging him, Niilo, and the Protector all off to the residence of the one Pokémon in Giotto who would somehow be able to make Lugia feel even less comfortable than he already was.

"Of course! Pleo's still afraid of Captain Nugget, so how's he ever supposed to see that we're the good guys?" Cabot exclaimed. "If he sees how she really is, I'm sure that it would smooth things over!"

The Cranidos wagged his tail eagerly, expecting a hearty affirmation... only to watch in disappointment as Pleo shrank back uneasily and his teammates rolled their eyes at the suggestion with impatient shifts of their feet.

"… Yeah, good luck with that," Niilo grunted.

"She is a bit more on the cantankerous side, Cabot," Berecien sighed. "I think we'd have more luck just by letting him spend time with Her Majesty, Admiral Coil, or else someone who's less… temperamental."

"And she's a scary crab!" Pleo squawked, beating his wings in protest.

"But we've all seen that when it really comes down to it, she does care about us!" Cabot insisted. "If that's how she feels about her own crew, surely she'd feel the same about the Empire' s new Protector!"

The Rock-Type's suggestion was met with a round of unamused, skeptical looks from his teammates, with even the young Lugia's expression seeming every bit as unconvinced as the others'. Sensing that his battle for persuasion was a losing one, the dinosaur flashed a pleading look and pulled his arms in towards his chest.

"Just trust me on this?"

Cabot turned back to the simple wooden door and brought up a claw. The Rock-Type balled it up and rapped it against the wood, waiting for an answer. After a long pause, Pleo and his guardians started to shift uncomfortably, wondering if anyone was home. Cabot raised his claw again, only for the door to open, revealing a surprised Clawitzer at the other end. Nagant blinked a moment, sizing up the Cranidos forcing a smile in front of Niilo and Berecien on her doorstep, with Pleo's form shrinking away, prompting an annoyed scowl to settle over her face.

"… What do you want?" she demanded

"Well, we thought it might be handy if you got to know Pleo a little more, Captain," Cabot explained. "He kinda started off on the wrong foot with you earlier."

"Pleo?" Nagant questioned.

"It's the Protector's name," the Cranidos insisted.

"Hrmph, it looks more like he has other ideas."

Nagant pointed past the three sailors off towards the lane. Blinking, Cabot and his companions turned back and saw Pleo creeping off slowly for the shadows.

"Uh… Protector, where are you going?" Berecien wondered. The Lugia at once jolted his head up, and looked back uneasily mid-stride, appearing much like an Aipom caught with its tail in a cookie jar.

"Oh! I… er…"

As Pleo fidgeted uncomfortably, Cabot paused before clearing his throat. The Cranidos inhaled deeply to brace himself, steeling his nerves to plead his case to his obviously unamused superior.

"Captain, if he feels constantly threatened around us, what's to keep him from flying off?" Cabot asked. "His flight feathers aren't going to stay damaged forever, and shouldn't the Protector of an Empire want to be a part of it?"

Nagant narrowed her eyes and scowled from the doorway, giving a quiet click of her mandibles. After a long, awkward pause, the Clawitzer sighed and shook her head.

"… Ladno. Let's just get this over with."

The four made their way into the cottage, finding it to be barren of the normal decor of a residence beyond the presence of some simple decorative stonework in the floor, a handful of cheap shelves along the wall, and a few ratty cushions haphazardly strewn about. Instead, the bulk of the abode's floorplan was consumed by a large pool of water connected to the grate, evidently Nagant's living, sleeping, and accommodating quarters all rolled into one. Berecien eyed the surroundings uneasily, noting that the house seemed to lack any other rooms… Was this really how captains of naval frigates lived nowadays?

"I would have thought that the Empire would have done more to help you transition, Captain…" Berecien murmured, only to be answered by a dismissive hiss.

"Hrmph. Such is the price for trying to inherit my family's title and estate when it's no longer in Imperial territory," Nagant grunted, as she lowered herself into the pool. "But so be it. It's not as if I'll have to wait much longer to get back what's mine."

"Well, underwhelming house or not. Don't you ever host guests here?" Niilo asked.

"Hrmph. I have my ship for that," the Clawitzer snapped. "Do you have a problem with it?"

"Well, I was thinking… maybe you had something to drink for the Protector and us?" the Sandslash continued. "Like a cup of water?"

Nagant rolled her eyes and brought over a clay bowl from some tiles next to the pool, leveling a claw at it. The Clawitzer cracked her firing claw open and spewed out a jet of water, which half-bounced out of the bowl leaving water splattered all around it, with a small amount of briny water remaining inside. Without a further word, the shrimp latched onto the sopping bowl and unceremoniously dropped it in front of her guests.

"There," she huffed. "Now dish it out yourself."

The bowl of briny water drew disgusted stares from Niilo, Cabot, and Berecien. Keenly aware of the others' reactions, Pleo uneasily craned his head down, eying the bowl skeptically.

"… Uh… are we supposed to drink that?" he whispered, only to be answered by Cabot emphatically shaking his head back.

"Er… I don't think you'd feel too well if you did, Pleo."

"Aherm. Perhaps we should skip refreshments for now?" Berecien offered. "Maybe we can start with some form entertainment instead?"

The Ponyta's answer was met with a hardened glare from the old Clawitzer. Based off her stiff demeanor and visible hostility, it was evident that she somehow had an even lower opinion of the suggestion than Niilo's request for drinks.

"Like what, Berecien?" Nagant demanded. "I'm a captain, not a common bard!"

Berecien backpedaled a moment and gulped, half-expecting the agitated crustacean to snipe him with a Water Pulse right then and there. He looked about the dingy abode for something to lighten the mood, only for his eyes to settle on a simple checkerboard made of light and dark wood lying to the side.

"Well, what about a game?" the Ponyta insisted. "You've always been a fan of checkers, and it's a simple game to pick up, is it not?"

Nagant's hostility ebbed for a moment, with an expression approaching genuine anticipation settling over her face. She clicked her claws, half unsure whether to take up the fire horse's suggestion, before shaking her head and answering.

"… I'll humor it."

The Clawitzer pulled the board over and set it down in front of her, carefully setting out the pieces on their respective sides. After it was prepared, the shrimp grabbed a corner of the checkerboard and rotated it to turn the light pieces towards the young Lugia, moving her small claw to latch onto one of the dark pieces and push it forward diagonally to the left.

"Your pieces stick to the like-colored tiles," Nagant explained. "If you jump over one of mine, it's yours."

Pleo peered down at the board, noticing that the Water-Type had moved her piece onto a square of the same color. Why, there were plenty of those further down the board on Nagant's end! Did he really just have to make one of his pieces jump to get some of Nagant's?

"Hrm…"

The Protector opened his beak and picked up one of the light-colored pieces on his end, lifting it from the board and swinging his head forward. He opened his beak, sending the checker flying across the board and clattering down on Nagant's end of the wooden board as it knocked a few of her pieces into her pool. The Clawitzer spluttered incredulously for a moment, only to be cut off by a curious chirp from the young Lugia.

"Like that, right?" Pleo asked. "It jumped over a whole bunch of your pieces!"

Nagant stared at her disturbed and freshly-disordered side of the checkerboard, tightening her claws with a low hiss under her breath. Keenly aware that his superior was losing her composure, Cabot hastily cleared his throat, hoping to shift the topic of conversation before Nagant's temper got the better of her.

"Er… how about you two start with introductions first!" he suggested. "That should happen before any games or drinks anyways, right?"

Nagant scowled at the Cranidos, and it was clear that her patience for her subordinates had already worn thinner than the cheap drinks served at Tidemill's seaside taverns. She narrowed her eyes, trying to pick apart just where the sailor was going with this.

"Introduce how, exactly?"

"Just tell him some stuff about yourself?" Cabot insisted.

The Clawitzer blinked, before sinking back into the water. The shrimp brooded a moment, twitching her barbels out of indecision before finally harrumphing back to a watching Protector.

"Hrmph. I'm a captain of an Imperial frigate," Nagant said. "It's my job to sail around and help protect the remaining realm from brigands, Company schemes, and assorted louts who threaten the order of Her Majesty's realm."

The Water-Type's declaration was followed by an awkward silence as Pleo found her explanation to be… thorough, yet not telling him anything he didn't already know about the shrimp. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if there was anything at all that he could talk about… before one idea in particular came upon him.

"… What about your family?"

"Excuse me?"

"You mentioned back on Orleigh that if you caught me you'd tell me about it," Pleo insisted. "Well, you caught me, so what were you going to say about them?"

Nagant paused, even her barbels failing to display any motion as a long quiet quickly sucked out what little life there was in the room. The elderly shrimp stared back at the young Protector, before shaking her head and raising her voice to speak.

"... I used to live with my family on Conntow, where my mother was a Marchioness," the Clawitzer answered. "We had an estate there called Nagant Bridge built over a ruined bridge from the Old World that straddled a river going into a harbor just outside of Middleguard City."

"Wait, Nagant Bridge?" Niilo asked, raising his brow. "But you're-"

"Nagant the Thirteenth, named after 'Nagant the Great', the heroic navigator," the shrimp interrupted. "My family kept up the tradition by sending their younger members to join seafaring professions such as those in the Navy. At the time of the Great Calamity, I myself was sailing regularly as a freshly-enlisted naval cadet."

A wave of grimaces settled on Cabot, Berecien, and Niilo, the lot coming to the realization that Nagant's enlistment was in all likelihood the reason why she was here before them to tell this tale at all. The Great Calamity would've happened when Nagant was about the same age as when the three of them enlisted and set sail for their first missions, and destroyed every part of her home settlement while she was far away at sea… Beyond their obvious discomfort, that realization failed to percolate down to the young Protector, who gave a blank tilt of his head at the wizened crustacean.

"So what happened to everything else?"

"Gone. All of it," Nagant snapped. "I spent years afterwards drifting from port to port on various ships, with my accommodations being whatever the navy could spare during those dark years. It was only afterwards that I finally got even this pittance of a cottage as recompense."

"But I don't understand. After all of that, why wouldn't you just accept the new title?" Berecien insisted. "My own parents lost everything when the Company dispossessed them, and they don't live like this…"

"Hrmph. You'll have to bring it up with the Prime Minister at the time who decided they didn't want to support titles that lay outside the Imperial realm," the Water-Type growled. "I'm sticking to my rights, and even if it takes my life to see it, I'll see what's mine return once the Empire is restored to its old glory."

"But what's the use of it?" Pleo asked.

The room went dead silent as Nagant shifted her body in the pool's water with a splash. The shrimp visibly tensed up, training a stare on the young Protector as her claws tightened shut with a powerful grip.

"What?"

"You've gone through all this trouble just to get me for your old title and land…" Pleo murmured. "But if they're all destroyed, then aren't you just doing all of this for nothing?"

The four Pokémon flinched at the sound of a heavy slam against the ground from Nagant's big claw and heard the clay bowl from earlier shake. Pleo ruffled his feathers uneasily and craned his neck to see the Clawitzer visibly seething, pulling her big claw away from the room's stone flooring.

"We're done here," Nagant hissed. "Cabot. Please take the Protector and see yourselves out the door."

"H-Huh?!" the Cranidos stammered. "But-"

"Now, Cabot!"

Cabot and the others flinched, hastily darting out of the chamber and back through the front door with the young Protector. The sound of Nagant following after reached their ears, and before the lot were down the front steps, the Water-Type slammed the door shut with enough force to disturb a few pebbles out in the path to the dwelling. Cabot stared back at the darkened residence for a moment, hanging his head dejectedly.

"… I'm sorry that that happened, Pleo," the dinosaur sighed. "I really thought that if you just talked with her, then-"

"It's alright."

"Huh?"

"She doesn't seem as scary anymore," Pleo insisted. "I understand why she's like this."

The three sailors paused, before wary smiles crept up over their faces. Somehow in spite of everything it sounded like something good came out of that whole debacle.

"Well, small victories, I suppose," Berecien muttered. "It's late, and we should be getting back."

Cabot, Berecien, and Niilo sighed and started making their way off down the lane, leaving Pleo to waddle after them. He beat his wings and noticed that the air still felt like it came too quickly through it, a quick glimpse revealing that while some of his plumes had grown back, the majority still sported the marks of clipping. The young Protector flinched as he felt something poke his chest and looked down to see his King's Rock. He adjusted it carefully, taking in the stone loop and the split band that Nida had tied back together. At once, the young Protector was filled with a flood of wistfulness, his mind shifting to his friends.

Watching Kiran and Ander get defeated in the tournament had shaken him earlier in the day, with Crom's reaction to the wounded Fraxure making him wonder how the two were related, and if his friend was doing alright. Whatever the relation, the whole episode seemed to shake up Nida, Elty, and Guardia… and he wasn't there to help... The young Protector sighed, looking up at the stars in the night sky before trudging off in heavier spirits, wondering when he'd see his friends once more.


The way back to the Guards' Headquarters went by listlessly that evening as Team Traveller went to collect their pay from Cardino and see what it was that he additionally wanted from them. The atmosphere was not for any fault of the districts of Tidemill they passed through, as the streets and canals throbbed with Pokémon as much as ever. Much like Bluewhorl's residents, the local Pokémon made a habit of shopping and socializing after leaving their places of labor. While the local Pokémon passed time together at taverns and eateries much as Trombans did, there was a noticeably different aura about the evening rush, with the local preference seemingly tilted towards perusing evening markets set up along the water and stopping to observe the performances various theaters and street entertainers.

No, instead the listlessness afflicting Team Traveller was enforced by an all-encompassing sense of gloom that hung over the three like a cloud, which made what ought to have been a lively and exciting evening walk slip by in a dull blur. When they finally reached the steps of the headquarters, even Cardino seemed to sense something was amiss, prompting the electric rat to clamber down and meet his assistants on the street.

"You're on time for once," the Pikachu said, passing over a small bag that clinked with coins as it moved. "Though you seem a bit downer than normal."

"We had an emergency come up back at the stadium," Nida replied. The Nidoran took and stashed away the mission reward with a sigh, shaking her head. "A friend of ours got hurt pretty badly in the ring."

Cardino blanched and flattened his ears out apologetically. His assistants had been a bit of an enigma all this time and on the later side, but even so he hadn't expected them to be grappling with a personal crisis as grave as this...

"Ah... well, I'm glad that you still managed to come out here," he offered. "You've technically completed your obligations, but... I still need your help with this case."

"What do you mean?" Elty demanded. "Didn't we just get through proving that Scraggy and his buddies innocent? Why would the case still be open?"

"We still don't know the full story of the real culprit, pal."

The three present members of Team Traveller traded uneasy looks with one another. Cardino's determination to close the case was admirable… but what else could be done right now?

"But just what are we supposed to work with there? We know there's a 'Coordinator' and that Sibich says that some 'Admiral Coil' is the culprit," Guardia murmured. "But you can't really trust the word of any old pirate, can you?"

"… Probably not," Cardino sighed. "But even so, you can still learn a thing or two from them. Come on."

The Pikachu and his assistants made their way inside, pacing down the hallways to the courtyard where they continued on back through the detention block. As soon as they entered, they were greeted by the sight of a much fuller cell block than the day before. The group made their way down uneasily, only to spot the Mareanie and Furfrou from the day before back behind a cell, visibly anxious and disoriented. Now that they noticed it, it seemed like the cell block as a whole was filled once again with other faces that were missing just yesterday… but why?

"Hey, didn't some of these 'mons already get sentenced once?" Elty murmured. "What are they all doing back here?"

"Well, given how the main witness for sentencing these pirates was revealed to have been colluding and feeding wrong information to us, it was hard for the judges not to push for a retrial," Cardino explained. "If it was discovered that Sibich's ship-burners were getting lighter sentences than cooks from his galley, it would cause an uproar against the crown."

"Hrmph, you'd never have this issue if you ran your trials like a civilized group of majū," Guardia grumbled.

Nida and Elty rolled their eyes at the Cubone's assertion, only to have their ears prick up at a muffled noise. The group carried on, where it became increasingly clear the sound was the hissing voice of an angered Cofagrigus. One that was becoming all too familiar to the group for their liking.

"I told you, I'm not telling you a thing to help you with your featherbrained plans!"

Cardino and his assistants paused, staring ahead down the hallway. There, ahead on the left was the door to the visitor's room, its occupants hidden from view but with sounds instantly discernible to be the muffled voices of Nico and Rita, along with the much louder sound of a none-too-cheery-sounding Sibich.

"Er… just what are we supposed to learn from Sibich like that?" Nida asked, prompting Cardino to look ahead skeptically and flatten out his ears.

"Uh… well, Nico did say he was still working on it," he reassured. "Let's check up on him and see how it's going."

The Pikachu walked up to the door of the meeting room, pressing up against its push panel to reveal Nico and Rita sitting at one end of a table, staring down a shackled and visibly glowering Sibich at the other end.

"As I was saying, there's nothing featherbrained about this at all. You'll give your testimony as the accused, and we'll use it to help bring the Coordinator out into the spotlight," Nico reiterated. "It's also the last chance you got at making any change to the current perception of you being a heartless cutthroat who steals eggs from their mothers before sentencing."

The conversation quieted at the sound of footsteps approaching. From his place chained to the table, Sibich looked over and instantly set his teeth on edge with a hateful scowl at the sight of Team Traveller's presence.

"Hrmph," the Cofagrigus huffed. "If you were hoping to persuade me, you would should have left those brats at the Day Care."

"Oh trust us, we didn't want to see you again either," Elty grumbled, rolling his eyes.

The Growlithe's retort was quickly answered by a seething hiss as an inky haze billowed out of Sibich's body. From their places across the table, Nico and Rita shifted back slightly, the Misdreavus floating up close to her Fletchinder partner's ear.

"Er… Nico, I don't think that we're getting through to him," Rita whispered. Nico paused, and moved a wing thoughtfully to his beak .

"Hrm… perhaps I need to put things in the most direct possible terms, then."

The Fletchinder turned back to the Cofagrigus across the counter, beating his wings with a heady thud against the table. With a fierce scowl across his face, the Fire-Type leaned in, glaring at the Ghost-Type at the opposing end.

"Sibich, the court has exiled Pokémon to the Wastes for less serious crimes than what you were discovered to be doing today," Nico snapped. "I don't know how much Cofagrigus really can get by on eating gold, but you'll be hard-pressed to find much of anything out there to stave off a long, lingering death by starvation."

No answer came back to the Fletchinder's words but the cold, steely glare of the captain of the Shadow Brigade. Sibich scoffed, giving a dismissive wave of his upper right hand as much as his bindings allowed.

"So what am I supposed to believe? That by playing along with you, you'll magically make all my problems go away?" the Cofagrigus retorted. "I wasn't born yesterday, Fletchinder."

"No, but you can believe that the judge will sentence you to something other than exile to the Wastes if you cooperate," Nico countered. "Wasn't that why you attempted to frame your more disposable underlings to begin with? If you would really prefer that the real culprit got away and you took the sentence, then there's nothing I can do to convince you. If you want a different option, this is the only other one you have."

Sibich paused in visible thought for a moment, before giving a grudging sigh and turning his attention back to his Fletchinder questioner. The Ghost-Type folded his arms as much as his bindings would allow, shooting a sidelong glance at Cardino and his party of assistants.

"… Fine. And I presume the peanut gallery here is also present to question me?" the Cofagrigus grumbled. "So what do you all want to know? Not like I have anything to lose right now anyways."

"Who is Admiral Coil?" Nida asked. "And why did everyone react the way they did when you said he was the Coordinator?"

"Hrmph. I'm not the local here," Sibich snapped, letting a little blackish haze billow out from his coffin. "Why don't you ask one?"

The wraith shot a finger at Cardino, who after having Team Traveller's gazes settle upon him, shook his head, and began to explain the identity of this 'mon of mystery.

"He's a naval admiral who is in charge of Giotto's defenses and helps keeps the peace in the Capital on behalf of the royal family," Cardino explained. "He's had a long history of naval service defending the island from piracy and hunting down pirates from dangerous waters. That's the primary reason why Her Majesty was currently considering him for filling the current vacancy of Prime Minister."

"Not the easiest of claims to swallow, as you can see," Rita added. "He's viewed very highly even by some Pokémon on other islands in Imperial waters."

"Aha... so he's the most trusted warrior of your colony," Guardia mulled. "So even the common gatherers would not believe it if they were told that he endangered the colony in such a treacherous way."

"I… think?" Cardino replied, giving a puzzled tilt of his ears. "And even if something serious did come out, I'm not sure how Her Majesty would react. Coil's family has a long history of service to the royal family in particular."

Guardia blinked and wondered under her breath why this colony would make such a big deal over lineage for its leaders and warriors. In the process of heaping up all their buildings and monuments, could the Pokémon of this 'Empire' really have forgotten wisdom as simple as the fact that talent wasn't an inherited trait? After all, in the colonies around home, there were tales of warriors having hatchlings that lacked their parents' bravery and stomach for battle, and of zokuchō who'd had young that in spite of their best efforts to mentor them were unable to gain the discernment needed to follow their parents' footsteps.

Why, if this Coil was even half the ne'er-do-well that Sibich made him out to be... If this ruler of the Empire just let him have his job because his parents had it before him, then no wonder why he'd caused so much trouble! But even so, what would he have to gain here? As the highest warrior of the Empire, what would he possibly gain from undermining his own duty in such a fashion?

"But I don't understand," the Cubone continued. "Just what would a pirate have to offer someone like that?"

"The power to make things happen. If the Admiral needed a raid to be done that he couldn't afford to get involved in, I'd do it in person or sway another crew back on Orleigh to do it in my stead," Sibich explained. "In return, he repaid me with tips so I could mount an occasional raid in his waters, along with a steady stream of eggs to bring back to mold into discardable pawns that suited my needs."

Nida, Elty, and Guardia recoiled in disgust at the Cofagrigus' statement. The idea of spiriting eggs away to raise as pawns for crime was already odious enough, but to hear him say it so cavalierly and with such disregard for the Pokémon he used… why, it was enough to think that perhaps even sending him to the Wastes wouldn't be punishment enough!

"Why would he bring you here, though?" Cardino demanded. "If Admiral Coil really is the Coordinator as you allege, then I'd imagine he'd want you as far away as possible from him."

"He sent a message that the Lugia had been seen on Giotto, and informed me that he was in a fringe town south of here," Sibich answered.

Cardino's assistants jolted up, their eyes widening in alarm. Admiral Coil had gotten wind of Pleo being awake? But they'd never so much as heard of the Admiral until they arrived here in Giotto! Could someone have told him? Was it the old Clawitzer who ambushed them?

"But Pleo was with us all the time!" Nida exclaimed. "And how would he know anything about him?!"

"That's irrelevant, as the Protector was nowhere in that hamlet. The only thing we found was a waiting ambush," Sibich insisted. "I was told that my crew was drawing too much attention and that if I helped single out some Pokémon to bear the brunt of the court's wrath, that I would be rewarded with a sentence lenient enough to escape from in return for my silence."

"Could you really trust that if he misled you from the start of your journey to Giotto?" Nico asked. "Given Admiral Coil's bid to be Prime Minister, it sounds more like he wanted to be rid of a liability."

The Fletchinder's response at once set the pirate's teeth on edge, his mood visibly darkening. Sibich grumbled bilously under his breath, the Ghost-Type realizing that with the information Nico had provided, all of the inexplicable events that had befallen him in the past few days suddenly made sense.

"I was not… aware of Coil's current circumstances at the time," the Cofagrigus seethed. "If I were, I would have not been so quick to trust him."

"Guess there really is no honor among thieves," Cardino sighed, shaking his head. "But still, we won't be able to get anywhere with just your testimony."

"I'm afraid that's the best I can do. Coil usually uses street thugs to do the dirty work of running messages and contraband," Sibich said. "But I've seen no one outside my crew in these cells since our capture."

Wait… Coil used street thugs to do his dirty work? Then, the notes that they recovered from that chamber in the stadium... the gang that Saéta had been so agitated about... could they have some sort of connection to him as the Coordinator?

"Wait a minute. Cardino," Nida said. "Didn't Saéta say that he and his goons were searching for a gang that was doing things on their 'turf'?"

"The egg thieves, yes," Cardino answered. "Was there something strange about what he said?"

"I was just thinking," the Nidoran murmured. "If those are the Pokémon Coil is using to do his dirty work right now, then they have to have something on them."

"That would be our best bet," the Pikachu muttered. "But how would we even go about that on such short notice? And even assuming we actually manage to find them and grab something from them tonight, dragging Coil in would be bound to cause a real stink at the tournament. Unless we managed to find something really good, there'd be no way we could justify it."

Elty blinked at Cardino's explanation, realizing that a commotion at the stadium would mean that there'd be fewer guards to pay attention to Pleo… But for how long? And where would they be?

"Hold on, did you just say that Admiral Coil was going to be at the tournament tomorrow?" Elty asked, tensing himself expectantly. It was a long shot, but… could it be something they could turn to their advantage?

"... I mean, yeah," the Pikachu sighed back. "But where are you going with this? It's not as if we have that many leads to work with."

Elty paused a moment, giving a serious look back to the Pikachu.

"... Don't be too sure about that, Cardino," the Growlithe replied. "But first things first… what sort of stink at the tournament are we talking about here?"


Author's Notes:

- (¡)Cállate! - Spanish: "Shut up!"
- canàje - Venetian: "brats"
- Hanashite! (放して!) - Japanese: "Let go!" (Hepburn romanization)
- Ladno (Ладно) - Russian: "All right"