Chapter 2
"Now Denté. I believe you were working on your water gun last time." Wenstrel explained, knowingly. He was standing next to a quickly fashioned test dummy, consisting of a large upright wooden log with a Chesto berry atop it. Both Pokémon were standing atop a small hill near the river, just outside of town.
Denté steeled himself for his first volley of attacks, with a deep breath, he mustered up all the power he could to shoot a sturdy, strong water gun. From his mouth, a jet of water shot towards the target atop the hill, only for it to veer off course and sail over Wenstrel's shoulder.
"Good shot, Denté! Concentrate on aiming next!" Wenstrel shouted.
Denté lined up his head with the target, and shot another jet of water. This time, it seemed the attack would land, only for it to fall just short of the dummy.
"Not enough power that time, I'm afraid. Come on, keep it up!"
The frustrated otter yelled out and shot another blast of water at the target, grazing the top of the chesto berry, rolling it backwards slightly.
"Doing great so far! You've managed to hit the target; you've got him next time for certain!"
"No! I'm just going to miss again! I hate this stupid training!" Denté growled, anger giving way.
Wenstrel sighed from the top of the hill, then waddled to where the oshawott stood, arms crossed and facing away from him. He got down to Denté's level and gently turned him to look into his tearful eyes.
"You've improved a lot since the last time we practiced, why are you upset?" He inquired.
The otter looked into Wenstrel's eyes, and wiped away his tears. "I'm not upset. I'm angry that the berry didn't even move. I'm still weak and pathetic. I've been able to use water gun for two months and I still haven't been able to fight with it!"
"Ah, I can see what you mean, but think of it this way. Three months ago when you first learned it, you could barely get out a dribble of water. You've been practicing four or five times a week since then. Now you can send a powerful jet of water about thirty to forty feet away!" Wenstrel praised.
A slight curl of a smile peeked at the corner of the small Pokémon's mouth. He looked up at the quagsire and took a deep breath. Concentrating within himself, he felt the energy in his core build up, like water filling a balloon. With his eyes sealed shut, he focused on his surroundings. The rustling of the tall, green grass. The slight breeze blowing past his ears. The flapping wings of a far-off Pidgey. Eventually, the energy inside him started to bubble up and out of his mouth in the form of a powerful shot of cold water, arcing to the top of the hill with great speed and precision.
"This is it." Denté thought. He watched as the jet of water hit the center of the chesto berry. It blasted it off of its perch and splattered on a rock below it.
"Hah Ha! Great job, Denté! That was a perfect shot!"
Wenstrel ran down the hill and picked dente up, swinging him around a bit before setting him down and giving him a high-paw.
"I never doubted you for a moment, I always knew you could do it!"
Denté's earlier frown shifted to a short grin.
"Thanks Wenstrel."
The sun had just reached the highest point in the sky when Wenstrel and Denté had decided to wrap up training and search the Farmer's Market for good deals on the freshest of ingredients. Denté remembered Ms. Vespiquen's stall from earlier this morning and soon after, thoughts of sweet honey crepes began to dance around his head. Wenstrel took one glance at the price and simply shook his head.
"This is the one of the best times of year for honey production, but she's still selling it at mid-winter prices. She's a stingy one, eh Denté?"
Denté stared at the queen bee and studied her for a moment. Sure enough, he could see the slight frown at the corner of her eyes as she put on a rather showy smile.
"I'm happy to see she's trying a new charade, but it doesn't convince me." Denté replied stoically.
The next stall was spices. A grand, aromatic display of color. Fresh ginger root and cinnamon sticks were piled high in baskets, as they seemed to be the most popular choice, and freshly restocked. There were three small vials of vanilla, seemingly the only ones in supply. Denté gently tipped one of the bottles backward a bit to check the price, only for his eyes to immediately open wide, and made him hurriedly, softly, set the bottle back into place.
"That's more than we make in a week!" The sentence fell like a brick from the top of his head to the bottom of his stomach. He slowly turned to Wenstrel who, fortunately, was preoccupied with measuring out a portion of nutmeg from the pile. "Better cherish the rest of the vial, there's no telling if I'll be able to use it again when it runs out." He shuddered.
A brisk stroll later, they happen across a quaint berry stall, monned by a single smolive.
"H-Hi, W-w-welcome to the Smolive Branch, w-what are y-you l-l-looking for t-today!?" the trembling smollive sputtered.
"We're simply looking for the freshest berries we can get for a decent price, and I'll say, these are some of the best I've come across today. I think we'll take a pound each of Cheri, Oran, and Pecha berries, and twelve pounds of Nanab Berries." Wenstrel gently said. "Could you help me find some that will be ripe in two days time?"
"W-wow! Such a b-big order! I'm happy t-to help!"
After a short time, all the berries were gathered, and set inside Wenstrel's large basket.
"Thanks for stopping b-by!"
"It's my pleasure Ms. Smolive." Wenstrel tipped his hat, deposited his coin and winked at the tiny creature before heading off towards the next stall.
"Wenstrel, why did you buy the berries there? Mr. Simisage always has the best prices at his stall."
"Now Denté, Mr. Simisage may have great prices, but the young Ms. Smolive seemed to have just started selling for the first time today." Wenstrel remarked. "Back when I was just starting out my restaurant, I didn't have a single customer for days aside from a few close friends. One day, Mayor Ampharos waltzed in and ordered a feast large enough to feed the greater half of the town! It was only then that more and more Pokémon began dining at my restaurant." He reminisced.
"So you're saying you want to do that with Ms. Smolive's stall?" Denté questioned.
"Yes, yes, Exactly! Small businesses are wonderful, aren't they? Most end up turning to fluff. My only hope is to try to get other small businesses off the ground much like Mayor Ampharos did with my own." He concluded.
Denté eyed the large basket of berries at his father's side. He did have to agree, the berries did look quite fresh. He could practically taste the Nanab parfaits right now.
"You know," Wenstrel continued. "That's why I enjoy wandering from island to island. Seeing all the Pokémon, old friends and new ones alike. The variety of shops, stalls and produce. Making other Pokémon feel important. It brings me peace at night knowing that something I did today made a Pokémon feel loved."
Denté looked up at his Wenstrel's face, a somber smile and tears pricking the corner of his eyes. Denté reached up and clutched Wenstrel's flipper, smiling at him. Wenstrel replied by giving his paw a squeeze and whispering three words.
"Thank you, Denté."
Back at the Inn, Hilda and George were in their humble kitchen. Hilda had just pulled out a tray of cinnamon sugar cookies from the soot-stained brick oven and gently set it atop the wooden table near the half-open window to cool. George swooped over to scoop up a cookie, promptly getting thwacked by Hilda's wing before he could even try.
"Let them cool, you fiend! Never been patient enough, and you always end up burning something of yours whether your hand or your tongue." She sharply remarked.
George, nursing his bruised hand, started sputtering, " Aye cannae help it lass, youer spice confections 'ave always been me top favorite, they 'ave."
"Praise will only ever get you so far, you bloke. Now quit your complaining and finish up the tea." She reprimanded. "I should hope that some of these would last, come morning."
Hilda glanced up through the open window to see a young oshawott toddling up the path towards the inn carrying a hefty sack under each arm, followed closely behind by a quagsire, laden with a heavy basket of produce.
"Looks like Wenstrel just finished shopping for the day. Judging by the contents of his basket, he'll be making his Nanab Parfaits next."
"Aye, those be meh favorite kind o' parfait, they be."
"Shut yer yap, they're headed inside. Wenstrel must be proper exhausted. Let us invite them for tea and chat for a spell."
At that moment, Hilda opened the window the rest of the way and exclaimed, "You boys look rather weary! Would either of you be interested to join us for tea and biscuits?"
She then turned to George and instructed him to put another kettle of water on the stove as her guests started to walk in the doorway.
"Ah, Hilda! Wonderful timing, I was just wondering if I would get the chance to sample your famous cookies before we headed off." said Wenstrel.
"Aw, Dearie, I hope they are to your liking, you can finesse better biscuits than I can manage, I'm sure."
"Maybe so, but these ones hold a special place in my heart. They are derived from your mother's recipe are they not?"
Hilda glanced upward, "May rest reach her soul. Yes, nothing could compare to hers I'm afraid." She adjusted her view again. "My goodness where are my manners, please sit down. Set your groceries on the counter, and rest for a spell. We'll talk once you're all settled"
Wenstrel heeded her words; He set the bountiful basket atop the counter by the stove and sat himself in one of the cushioned chairs by the table. Denté simply set his bags under the counter and dragged a footstool to his father's side, then sat atop it. Hilda set out a couple plates in front of them, each with three warm cinnamon cookies.
"The tea will be just a moment," Hilda declared, "Do either of you want something else to drink instead?"
"I think tea is fine for me, Hilda, but thanks for the offer. How about you Denté?" Wenstrel inquired.
"Do you have any milk?" He asked.
Hilda nodded. "Yes, I believe so. George, can you get him a glass?"
"A'ight, comin' up." George said, then plodded down the wooden stairs to the cellar.
"Fetch another log for the fire while you're down there, George."
A muffled "Yes'm" sounded from the floorboards. She turned to face the pair, then set down a tray with three porcelain cups on matching saucers, a kettle of hot steaming tea, and one shiny aluminum sugar bowl.
"Now come along, treat yourself, they're getting cold." Hilda said.
Denté seized one of the cookies. They were light and crispy, and with the dusting of cinnamon infused sugar on top, they positively invigorating. He quickly finished his first and started on his second.
"Well someone is ravenous today. I'll fetch you another plate." Hilda chuckled.
Wenstrel nibbled at his own cookie and swooned. "Ah, they taste much like I remember. Your mother would be proud."
That's when George stumbled up the last step from the cellar, and proceeded to set a large log near the stove. Afterwards, he grabbed a short glass from a shelf to his left and poured a glass of milk from the bottle he had retrieved. After setting the glass in front of the young Mon, he plopped down into his chair and started preparing his own cup of tea. Hilda joined the group by sitting down between George and Wenstrel.
"Now Wenstrel, where is it you are headed next? You rarely spend more than two days in a row in one place." Hilda questioned.
After a sip of tea, Wenstrel replied, "I believe we're headed to Kippor Island. It has been a good few years since we have been there last. I have a friend there I need to meet."
"Kippor, eh? That be a good two days voyage, one day on the river, the other o'er the ocean." George said.
"That's near the mainland, is it not?" Hilda inquired.
"Yes, we will be travelling a fair bit this time, But it's nothing we couldn't handle before. I bet we will make it before the second sunset." The quagsire settled.
"Has Denté ever made the trip with you before?" Hilda asked.
At the mention of his name, he glanced up from his glass of milk.
Wenstrel thought for a moment, before saying, "Now that I think about it, he has, but he was very young. I don't think he remembers the place. Do you?"
Denté shook his head, and helped himself to a third cookie.
"All the more reason to go then! The island has a great variety of special fruits and vegetables that I've been dying to try cooking again. Durin berries are the supposed queen of fruits, but they ban them from ever leaving the island. The only place I can cook with them is there. The friend I mentioned wrote to me a few nights ago, saying he finally managed to snag a good supply of them before they sold out. This may be one of my last chances to taste them!" Wenstrel rambled.
"When will we make the Nanab parfaits then?" Denté pondered out loud.
"You see, my friend has a particular palate, Nanab berries are one of the few things he adores, and he particularly loves desserts. The parfaits are my way of repaying him for this once in a lifetime experience of enjoying Durin berries. The thing is, he's not sure how long he can stave off his appetite before he eats the whole crate!"
"My my! It seems you have a busy schedule! We shouldn't keep you any longer than you can spare time for." Said Hilda.
"Aye, it seems yeh'd be in a right pickle if yeh doen't show up in time fer that." George concurred.
"I'll send you off with a bundle of biscuits, consider it a farewell and good luck present." Hilda said, to which she hurriedly placed a half-dozen of the cookies on a cloth and tied it up with twine, placing it in Wenstrel's basket.
"Oh, we're not in that much of a hurry, but we should load the ship with the produce and then we can rest until the sun rises. We will leave at first light tomorrow." Wenstrel stated.
Denté looked up once more from his now empty glass and equally empty plate.
"Early morning tomorrow, huh? Wenstrel is definitely in a hurry; he hates waking up before the sun."
XXXX
After waving the pair of water types goodbye, Hilda turned to George.
"You think that young 'Mon is doing alright?" she asked.
"Aye, I think so." George replied bluntly, stirring his tea.
Hilda sat down, clutching her own cup. "I'm just worried for him. Ever since his parents' passing-"
George held a finger to his lips. "I agree with ya, ma'am. But it would be a soer subjec' tah bring up tah him, wouldn' yah say?"
Hilda nodded. "I still think about that day, do you think we'll ever find out who started that fire?"
George took a large sip from his cup. "Best nah think 'bout it too much."
Hilda jabbed at him with a wing. "I think you need to worry more, George. He was only a babe when it all happened. It must give him trouble sleeping at night." She took a careful sip of her tea. "I sure hope this trip goes well for those two."
"Aye, best be lookin' et tah bright side. To teh goodwill of all." George thrust his half empty tea-cup out toward her.
In turn she tipped hers in his direction.
"To the goodwill of all."
End of Chapter 2.