Chapter 5 – A Deal Made

Research and testimony from arrested dealers point towards the recently raided underground of Baram Town being the one of the largest black markets in Yanpei. Based on the reports given from bounty hunters in the region, the most common items included: illegal and counterfeit orbs and wands, outlawed substances known for their addictive qualities, and trafficked pokémon, both live and dismembered for parts.

Based on its size, it is apparent that the market acted as a central "hub" for these illicit trades, and its shutdown is certain to stymie these activities. However, as it appears that additional key locations in this ring remain operational, greater investigation regarding the trafficking of pokémon is required.

Bounty hunter Verdant Scales of the Southern Jungle (cyclizar) believes that these dealers operate on the outskirts of smaller towns and villages to maintain a low profile. He calls for more thorough investigations in places such as Pokémon Square rather than municipalities such as Metemall Town.

—"Largest Black Market in Yanpei Busted!" Article excerpt from the Pokémon News

Rhythmic thumps filled the ensuing hours with no signs of stopping, even as the sky yellowed with a sickly hue and darkened into night. The moon crept across the sky, reluctant to rise, and the gusting sea breeze chilled Bellatrix down to the bone.

It was impossible for Bellatrix to get a proper view of her surroundings beyond brief glimpses wedged between Diggersby's hops. The most she could glean was the gradual approach of a small outcropping of derelict buildings. Illuminated by lantern light, they squatted by the shoreline and groaned with the wind. Such a miserable commotion. Bellatrix's ears pinned back.

All she could do in the meantime was plot her escape, imagining every distinct possibility. If she could just wiggle out of his grip, or bite hard enough to break one of those finger-like growths. She could hide somewhere in the grass or bushes while Diggersby was distracted and then sneak away as he looked, or maybe she could—

Diggersby stopped and his grip tightened.

A confused gasp escaped Bellatrix. Her gaze darted between her captor and the distant buildings. Her heart sank. Why were they stopping here? What on earth was going through this brute's head? He was glaring at something. Reluctantly, Bellatrix turned her head to look at what had commanded Diggersby's attention.

Boarded up with driftwood and plastered with, presumably, warnings written in red dye was the entrance to a narrow cave. Despite its unassuming appearance, something about it made Bellatrix shudder. She stared. The inky darkness within captivated as much as it unsettled. The roof of her mouth burned with the scent of dust and sulfur while the draft that carried it dared her to enter. She would have, were she not held fast.

The sensation evaporated the moment Bellatrix noticed two pinpricks of light burning in the darkness.

No…

Bellatrix yelped and tried to squirm away, nipping at Diggersby's dexterous ear-tips. What was it doing in there? Was that its lair? They couldn't seriously be going in— Could they? Unless, of course… Bellatrix's maw twisted into an accusatory snarl. The two were conspiring with each other – they had to be! Why else would he stop right before the beast's den!?

But Diggersby, unaware, scowled and spat at the barricade. "Serves them right," he growled. He turned and continued down the path.

Relief. Sickening, short-lived relief filled Bellatrix for the first time all day.

The gradual approach of the abandoned hamlet was heralded by the sound of waves and the smell of brine. It consisted of ten or so buildings, far more modest— primitive than the so-called "grand" buildings of the main town. Diggersby's sights were set on the largest of the most well-put together buildings and, as they drew near, Bellatrix noticed a sheet of scrap metal installed above the door. Words of that gibberish the pokémon here called a language were etched into it. Before Bellatrix could even think a derisive thought, the door swung open with an unoiled squeal.

Inside, laying on a worn cushion, was a mangey arcanine that bore many nicks and bumps all over her body. She acknowledged Diggersby with a grunt and her gaze lingered on Bellatrix for far too many seconds.

Giving no response, Diggersby moved towards a smaller room, guided by the dim candlelight that laid beyond the door frame. He wrestled the stubborn door behind him shut and flung Bellatrix to the ground, causing her to tumble right before the feet of a perrserker. He didn't seem to notice either of them, too busy tearing chunks and shoving pieces of basculin meat into his mouth. Occasionally, he scratched his beard, looking for any stray bone that might've found itself tangled within.

Bellatrix retched, her mouth agape as she scrambled back, only to be blocked by Diggersby and his malignant grin. He smacked the wall behind him. The building shook and the feline looked up from his meal. He stared at his client with hungry eyes, licking the tip of a rotting tooth.

"Ah, if it isn't Greydigger," Perrserker rasped. "It's been a while. Got yourself desperate again?"

"Spare the pleasantries, Ironcoin," scoffed Diggersby, or rather, Greydigger. "What's in my pockets ain't your fucking business. Besides, there ain't anything of value to scoop up these days – even the tourists have gone stale." He kicked Bellatrix towards Ironcoin, knocking her on her side. "Managed to luck out big time with this one."

Ironcoin smirked at Greydigger and leaned over Bellatrix to appraise her. His breath was foul and the steel-type's claws punctured the skin of her scruff the moment she tried to shrink away. Bellatrix let out a tiny cry as he pulled her closer.

"Y'know I'd be havin' a lotta nerve tryna sell a curse, otherwise I'd say she's perfect," hummed Ironcoin. "Then again, there's always a niche for the folks who like to live more dangerously." He salivated at his own words, causing Bellatrix to recoil further in disgust.

He continued. "A lil ragged though, I'd say 500 poké is a fair price. Any form will do."

"500!" bellowed Greydigger. He punched the ground with an ear, splintering the decaying, wooden floor. "Do I look like a bleedin' charity to you!? At that price, I may as well give her up for free!"

"Well, if you insist…"

"I'm not," he growled. "She ain't worth any less than 3000 – three golds – and I ain't leaving till I get my poké's worth!"

Ironcoin scratched his beard. He found a loose rib and began picking his teeth with it. "Desperate," he confirmed. "I ain't about to be listenin' to any sob story. She's still a curse, it's only natural I include a small… liability cost."

Greydigger clenched his fists. "Now don't start givin' me shit neither of us care about. I ain't about to take this kinda daylight robbery lying down. Look at those markings and then me, straight in the eye, and I dare you to tell me that I ain't the reasonable one here. I'd even put an extra gold to her value, but since I'm so generous—"

Deep horror took root within Bellatrix. Only now did the reality of her situation begin to sink in. She was being trafficked. Auctioned off like a porcelain doll and there was nothing she could do about it. She tried to struggle away but Ironcoin's grip only tightened in return.

"Gotten cocky, have we?" taunted the perrserker. He met Greydigger's gaze, unflinching. "But I'll give you the point on the markings. Definitely an exotic with those, a shame the temper-ment leaves much to be desired. Gonna be a while before I can price her, even if I appreciate the challenge. 2000."

Ironcoin cracked his knuckles. "But," he continued, "if ya keep arguing, I ain't making a purchase. It'd be in… poor form to take something you're so determined to cling onto."

"Gotten so out of touch you think wanting a fair deal is being desperate now, have we?"

Bellatrix's legs gave out from beneath her. She slumped, only remaining upright thanks to Ironcoin's grip and between it and the closed door, there was no escape. Forced to listen to Greydigger's increasing frustration and Ironcoin's nauseating glee. It was hopeless. Truly hopeless.

The perrserker's stubbornness grated against Greydigger and with no sign of changing his mind, the diggersby threw up his arms and ears and accepted the 2000 poké deal. Greydigger swore beneath his breath as Ironcoin fished out two, grimy gold coins from his beard.

"Pleasure doin' business," purred Ironcoin. He looked far too pleased for both Bellatrix's and Greydigger's liking. "I'll take good care of her."

Greydigger inspected the coins and spat at Ironcoin's feet. "I'd beat the shit out of you if I didn't have better things to do with my time."

"Can't blame me for knowing the look of a sad sack of shit when I see one."

Without another word, the diggersby slammed the door behind him, leaving Bellatrix alone with the steel-type whose grin grew even wider.

"What fun," chortled Ironcoin. He dropped Bellatrix and turned towards an innocuous box of junk in the corner. "It's been a while since I got a good barter." A loud clattering followed as all sorts of objects, from rocks, to glass, to metal knick knacks scattered across the floor. He was quick to grab some kind of rusty manacle, embedded with a pale stone, darkened by years-worth of grime, that rolled along its side. He held it close to a sputtering flame and nodded a moment later.

"This oughta take care of any funny business," he then said, looking back at Bellatrix. In an instant, he snatched Bellatrix by the left leg, ignoring her pained yelp, and clamped the cuff just above her knee. Ironcoin only cared to ensure that it wasn't too loose, making it far tighter than what was comfortable.

Seized by an unusual chill and overwhelming lethargy, Bellatrix's vision began to blur as she grew too weak to stand. She shook as she tried to climb back on her feet, eventually managing it while fuming at Ironcoin as the perrserker had clearly gotten a sick kick watching her struggle.

"'Canine!" he then yelled, causing Bellatrix to jolt. "Make yourself useful for once and take the new one downstairs."

This was followed by shuffling from the other room. The door swung open, revealing the arcanine from before, her cavernous maw contorted into a huge yawn.

"And put 'er where?" she lazily asked.

"Oh, I dunno, she makes for a great addition to the floor don't ya think?" Ironcoin hit the side of 'Canine's head, leaving a fresh cut. "How 'bout an empty cell, you ditz! Do you use that head for anything?"

'Canine rubbed the spot with a paw. "Whatev'r you say," she said, maintaining that same, aloof tone. She glanced at the shackle on Bellatrix's leg. "'Least you remembered to nullify this one."

Ironcoin snorted. "Get outta my sight before I decide to make that warning a proper beating."

He received a bored grunt in reply as the arcanine's jaws tightened around Bellatrix's midsection.

She was taken back to the foyer and 'Canine pushed aside her cushion, revealing a trapdoor resting beneath. It slid open with a disinterested shove. Bellatrix then felt herself being carried down a staircase, to a place without a speck of light in sight.

And for the briefest of moments, Bellatrix thought she saw 'Canine's indifferent gaze turn apologetic.

Indeedee paced back and forth, sporadically glancing out of her office window to see the sight of the waning moon. It had been hours and there was no trace of the zorua. A storm of shame, concern and embarrassment brewed within her. She didn't know what upset her more: being naive enough to let the ghost roam free after the way she behaved, or Aggron's face after she'd bumbled her way through the news that she had lost the patient she was supposed to look after.

She rubbed her face, the tips of her fingers catching on and pulling her eyelids. To make matters worse, that Sun-blighted guild hadn't said a single thing since the incident with Kirlia. Absolutely nothing about those "demons" and zero direction on what to do with the zorua! What a waste of time and poké! Pricks. She knew she should've trusted her instincts on this and avoided the guild at all costs. Instead, she had wilfully walked into a galvantuala's web of conspiracy for her troubles.

She imagined them knocking on the apothecary door first thing tomorrow to demand an update. Their smug expressions and badges of fool's gold that gleamed in the morning light knowingly refused any explanation short of a meteor falling right on top of the apothecary.

The scent of hard, acrid alcohol wrinkled Indeedee's nose and dispelled the daydream. Indeedee forced herself to take a deep breath to reassess the situation, just noticing that she had slumped down to the floor with a half-empty shot glass of a cheap iapapa cordial. She sighed and downed the rest, the searing sensation it left behind jolted both mind and body.

Indeedee allowed the now-emptied glass to roll across the floor, the final droplets scattering along the woodgrain. She wouldn't get any answers like this. Did she even want them? Yes! …No…? She didn't know.

What Indeedee did know was that she had gotten involved now, unable to sit still until she found some form of closure on this. It could've been anything; the peace of mind a mundane explanation brought, sticking it to that uppity guild, making sure Zorua was okay…

…Unfortunately, the best place to start looking would be the guild itself.

Worse yet, trying to pry information from them as a laymon was impractical in the best case scenario. Even rookie teams were given a hard time if they tried to enter certain areas of the guild archives. That meant that the easiest way to get those answers Indeedee wanted was to sign up and work her way up the guild ranks.

She leaned back against a shelf. Which would mean leaving her post at the apothecary as there would be no time to run it. Another shot. Indeedee shuddered.

Why was she even considering this? The easiest, the smartest thing to do was to divorce herself from all this. Who cared about Zorua? She was just another patient who came and left after she was treated. Simple as that. It didn't make her special in any way, the fact that she was even contemplating this was ridiculous.

A few seconds passed, Indeedee craned her head to look out the window and let out a long, long exhale.

She couldn't bring herself to ignore it.

The motherly side of her was stricken with fear at the thought of all the things that could have happened to such a small thing, terrible as she may have been. Maybe she got lost, maybe her vanishing was intentional. Whatever the reason, Indeedee grew restless at the thought that one of her patients was in so much potential danger that she was partially responsible for.

In a flash, Indeedee stood up and grabbed a quill and inkwell. A loose sheet of parchment flew to her desk and after a moment's hesitation, Indeedee began to write.

Esteemed Guildmistress. I hope this letter finds you well.

I, Dewdrop of the Vivichoke (species name: Indeedee, preferred name: Vivi), formally request apprenticeship at the Silver Thread Guild. As I specialise in medicines and aromatherapy, I would prefer a position within your medical wing, though I will not fuss if you decide to put my abilities elsewhere. I have grown increasingly enamoured in the wealth of skill and information your psychics have displayed and I would be honoured to stand among them.

All the best,
Vivi.

With a fist, she smacked her forehead. What are you doing, Vivi? The amount of lies she'd packed into those few sentences made her frown. She dropped the quill, allowing the ink to splatter just below her own writing. It felt unreal, part of her refused to believe it. But with shaking hands, Vivi picked up the parchment and blew on the ink. She gave it a few more minutes to dry, her mind battling over whether or not this was a good idea, and folded it into an envelope.

Standing up, Vivi walked towards the door, drawing herself closer and closer to the post office one step at a time. With luck, the letter would find itself in the hands of a guild recruiter first thing in the morning.

She couldn't will herself to stop, even as the door to the apothecary swung open. Vivi shut and locked the door behind her, stepping out into the night.

Bellatrix glared at 'Canine. "What are you going to do to me?"

The arcanine pushed Bellatrix into a cell and swung the door – a solid block of wood with a tiny, barred window, just high enough for 'Canine to look through – shut.

"Me? Nothin'. Ironcoin though…" She grimaced. "Shouldn't be too bad if you behave yourself."

Vanishing from view, she continued, "He ain't above it, but he don't like damaging his wares much. Prefers to sell them at a higher price he gets them at, and good servants and concubines don't come easy these days."

Bellatrix scrambled away from the door, reeling. The heavy sound of a lock clicking into place followed.

Through the door, she heard 'Canine sigh. "Best not to think 'bout it," she said. "Enjoy the cell. It ain't much, but I'm sure it'll do."

Fading footsteps echoed from beyond the cell door. Bellatrix barely caught the distant mutter of, "Only got three left. Ironcoin better start sellin' before we fill up completely." And then, she was left alone.

The cell was cramped, occupied only by some scant bedding against the back wall and a pair of dying candles that sparsely lit the room. Spirits. As if things couldn't get any bleaker. Bellatrix glanced at the cell door. Her forehead fell against it with a small thud, her claws unsheathing and digging into the hard surface. What was she even supposed to do here? Trying the door was pointless and she could barely take a few steps before she reached the other wall.

Bellatrix grit her teeth, holding back frustrated and despaired tears. This was it, wasn't it? Her life was now just a series of increasingly disastrous events and all she could do was dread over what might happen next.

But the longer she remained in place, the more she noticed something. It was difficult to describe, the best Bellatrix's mind could come up with was an immaterial softness in the hard, wooden slab – like a dotted line telling her where to cut along with scissors. An invisible weakness in the physical plane she could sense and recognise. It pulled and argued against the feeling of hardwood against her head and paws, leaving the ghost-type deeply uncomfortable.

Instinct took over. Raising her paw, Bellatrix traced along the vulnerability with a claw. Wisps of ghostly energy trailed behind, licking at the woodgrain, and formed a small line. She shivered as an odd numbness crawled up her leg. She looked at the bizarre cuff, eyes widening as moments later she felt her strength sapping away.

She hissed. So that's what it did. Not that it mattered. It wasn't like she could use this body's abilities to much effect to begin with, and even if she could, she didn't really want to. Ironcoin should have spared himself the trouble.

…She definitely wasn't upset about it now because it presented an inconvenience to her.

Bellatrix slumped down onto her haunches and glowered at the door. She hated how small she was, she could barely reach the lock, even if she stood on her hindlegs and fully stretched herself out. Although, now that she thought about it, it was a potential option for her. If she could just find that same sensation of weakness there…

She reared up again, pushing through the exhaustion, and placed her front paws on top of the rusted metal plate that held the cell door shut. Closing her eyes, Bellatrix focused on the mechanisms within, probing for any potential opening to pull apart and take advantage of. She felt the same energy from before build up beneath her paws and she found herself scratching against the metal. Lethargy struck again but Bellatrix bit down on her tongue to keep herself focused, forcing herself to push through it.

The strain was nigh on unbearable. Bellatrix's head felt like it was made of cotton and her vision began to darken, but just as her legs were about to give out from beneath her…

Click!

The door creaked open. It was naturally inclined towards an open position, allowing for Bellatrix to push it open.

She gathered what remained of her strength and wobbled back onto her feet. From where she stood, the hallways trailed off into a dark expanse. Bellatrix looked at the candles, tempted to grab one. Despite it all, she was still determined to pretend that she needed it, that her vision wasn't clear in the dark. The more she ignored these horrible little reminders, the less about her reality she would have to accept.

However, as she considered the logistics of it, she was forced to acknowledge that it would necessitate holding the candle in her mouth. Not only did Bellatrix imagine the taste to be horrible but it would obstruct her vision more than help it. She bit the bullet and walked out into the darkness, reluctantly accepting her night vision.

She prowled the halls, her claws retracting to not make a sound. The hallways branched and twisted in several different directions. Cells, locked tight to keep their occupants trapped within, nested irregularly in the walls. As Bellatrix walked, her ears perked as she heard a faint whispering coming from one of the rooms. A quiet giggle followed ushering in more voices. It sounded like they all belonged to girls. Bellatrix drew closer, the words becoming distinct to her ears.

"Is that right?" one gasped. "Ironcoin got himself a new one?"

"Didn't ya hear the commotion upstairs?" answered a second. "The sound from up there travels so easily in my cell, I'd have a harder time not listening to their shady dealings!"

"I'm surprised," the first voice replied. "I thought I heard 'Canine talkin' about how hard markets are to find these days. Dealers ain't doing anything to hide themselves despite bounty hunters getting more vigilant and the folk who sell to Ironcoin are getting stingier. I don't think he likes that."

A third voice chimed in. "Makes sense. It's been a while since the last newbie. Never thought he'd get desperate enough to buy a curse, though…"

"Ah, he doesn't buy that shit for a second," dismissed the second voice. She sounded older than the others. Barely an adolescent. "Sounded like a really young one – exotic too – a lotta potential value right there."

"Which means… less value out of us," said a new voice, sounding defeated. "What do you think happens if we don't sell? Ironcoin can't keep us here forever, right?

"He kept 'Canine around."

"Yeah, but that's because he's, you know, fond of her."

The second voice guffawed. "Ironcoin being fond of anything but poké!? Next, you'll be telling me that the guild is right on its way to save us!"

Bellatrix heard a thump and then an annoyed, "Ow— Hey!"

"It's true you know, even if it doesn't sound real," the fourth voice said sagely. "Hey?" she suddenly asked. "Wanna bet on who the next client will be? I'm thinking it's going to be a slaver. Haven't seen one of those in a while."

"Ironcoin's lucky day," whistled the first voice. "Would free up most of the rooms too… Don't want any part in it though."

"Well, maybe we can see an ambassador – I think that's what they're called – again. I know they only take the youngest ones, but I can try to convince them to take me!" the third voice said hopefully. A light jingling sound followed. "I still have a lot to learn and I have the keys to prove it! Anything's better than a servant or concubine."

Bellatrix had heard enough. She backed away just as all the voices rang out in agreement, shaking her head as her ears pinned back. It was her worst nightmare come to fruition. To not only speak so casually of this but to be accepting of it, making bets on whichever lowlife would stop by to ruin her life further…

As she stepped back, her mane billowed in tune with her rising stress and as it did, Bellatrix felt something tower above her. A stagnant breath fell against her neck causing her to yip in fear, all care for stealth gone, as she scrambled away to hide.

She had to get out of here. Somehow.

To wear a mantle of adamant claws, lustrous fangs, and a griseous pelt of feather, fur and scale.

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