Chapter 22 – Desire

Die Geschichte von Wahrheit und Ideale als Königreiche existierte lange Zeit im Schatten der vielen Auseinandersetzungen zwischen Wunsch und Wirklichkeit. Und doch bleibt es bis heute ein Rätsel, warum Wunsch und Wirklichkeit auf ihren Wanderungen nach dem Glühenden Blitz so nahe beieinander liegende Länder zum Wohnen auswählten. Ihre genauen Begründungen sind inzwischen verloren gegangen. Einige vermuten, dass es das Schicksal der beiden ist, sich im Laufe ihres Lebens näher zu kommen, während andere vermuten, dass der Glühende Blitz einfach zu einer Zeit stattgefunden haben könnte, als sie beide von ihrer ursprünglichen Heimat entfernt und nahe beieinander waren.

Wie unsere Schutzgöttin wählte der Gott, den wir Wunsch nennen, einen Helden und half dabei, ein Königreich nach ihrem Geschmack zu gründen. Königin Galea, die zusammen mit dem Gott, der ihr beistand, das Königreich von Ideale inmitten der Ruinen einer Stadt des Lichts gründete, die einst der Standort der legendären „Illumina” gewesen sein soll. Ein Ort, den die Bewohner des Landes der Wahrheit heute Donnerturmstadt nennen.

Auch wenn es in dieser Stadt Orte gab, die Wunsch als Schlafplatz gefielen, heißt es, dass es letztlich ihre Wünsche und ihre Stärke an Idealen waren, die ihn dazu brachten, Galeas Bitten zu folgen, um unsere unruhige Welt in eine zu verwandeln, die ihrer Meinung nach besser für ihre Bewohner war. So starke Wünsche, dass manche sagen, sie hätte es für angebracht gehalten, dem ein Ende zu setzen, wenn die Welt sie zurückgehalten hätte.

Niemand weiß, wie wahr diese Geschichten sind, aber sie sind auf jeden Fall glaubwürdig, wenn man bedenkt, was über Wunsch und diejenigen, die er als seine Helden in der Geschichte ausgewählt hat, überliefert ist. Besonders angesichts der großen Gewalt, die dieser Drache von Reines Schwarz über uns und unserem Land von oben herab verübt hat.

– Auszug aus »Die Wahrheiter Chroniken – Eine kurze Geschichte der frühen Jahre unseres Königreichs«

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Lacan held his head up stiffly as the clatter of sliding wooden partitions rang out and the wall in front of him slid aside at the tug of the King’s paw to reveal a wooden balcony outside. The King stepped out, and after a moment to suck in a breath and steel his nerves, Lacan followed after him into the brisk air.

The balcony was simple, but well-hewn in construction, and wide enough for just about any Pokémon on land to comfortably fit on it. Function had evidently been prioritized over form, with the timbers feeling sturdy underfoot but bearing few decorations barring a Drachensiegel here or there carved into the wood just below the railing.

The sun was already starting to set, as burnt orange hues reflected off the river bounding the Administrative District to the north as stars began to twinkle in the skies above. Below, they were mirrored by the lights of countless lanterns and candles in the windows of the city below sprawling out to its circular walls and the ten towers that anchored it. In more normal circumstances, Lacan would’ve been content to just look out over the scene and bask in its wonder.

But things weren’t normal right now. The Mienshao’s frown at the corner of his mouth made that much obvious, even as he kept his gaze turned away and glanced out over the surrounding cityscape.

“I was hoping you’d have something to show me for your efforts, Lacan,” Siegmund said, still looking away. “Especially after you passed word of finally intercepting the Dyad just three days ago.”

Lacan quietly grimaced. There had been times in the past when the King had received him warmly, much as if he was his flesh and blood…

But none of that warmth was there today, and Lacan could hardly fault him. After all, this wasn’t an occasion to prattle on about his recovery from the wounds he’d sustained prior to his assignment to Operation Spark, or about the paints he dabbled with in simpler times much like his father had.

They were there to talk about how for the third time in a year, he had grasped the fate of Varhyde’s future in his claws only to have nothing to show for it.

“Your Majesty, I’m not one to make a habit of making a fool of myself,” the Salamence said, lowering his head apologetically. “I would not have come here to the capital if the Dyad’s trail had not taken me here.”

The weasel’s expression grew guarded and serious. It was hard to imagine he thought much of excuses, much less coming from a noble of middling rank such as himself. The very fact that he was here addressing the King in person was a privilege that Grafen rarely enjoyed in Varhyde, especially ones without accomplishments to their name like his father.

It was likely because of his father that he had this opportunity with Siegmund, and he would be a fool to squander it by making the King believe that he took it for granted.

“I understand your apprehension, Your Majesty. But the fact that the Dyad came here not even a night after fleeing Primordial Woods makes me believe she won’t leave right away,” Lacan insisted. “She and the ruffians with her fled Errberk Village after they were caught stealing from a wagon, and they would need time to reprovision in a strange environment. Time which we can use to track her down.”

“I still don’t understand how things came to this,” Siegmund sighed. “If she could have been persuaded to come quietly…”

“As you’ve seen from the reports from our first few months pursuing her, our attempts to do so were unfruitful,” the Salamence said. “Somebody put her up to the idea that she couldn’t trust the power within her to the realm and to keep running away, and we’ve been dealing with the consequences of her stubbornness ever since.”

Lacan braced himself as the Mienshao remained silent and kept his same, stony expression from the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure whether or not he was persuading the King, or simply digging himself in deeper right now.

He’d explained in an urgent dispatch after the debacle in and around Waterhead Cave that he needed what he hoped would merely be a few days’ more time to recover her. While King Siegmund would surely understand a delay of a couple days, being half the kingdom away from that backwater where those damned Outlaws had thrown his mission off-course was another matter entirely.

… And yet, the fact that Siegmund hadn’t cut in yet wasn’t a bad, sign was it? Perhaps if he just explained why the Dyad had most likely come here, he’d understand…

“That’s why I have reason to believe that the Dyad may want to linger here,” Lacan said. “It would appear that she is looking to better understand her true nature.”

Siegmund turned his head warily to the side. He twitched his whiskers briefly before speaking up in a guarded tone.

“And what gives you such confidence in your theory, Graf Lacan?” the Mienshao pressed. “After all, it’s already deeply surprising to hear that the Dyad would come here of all places.”

“Observed behaviors,” he replied. “She picked up a pendant during her travels that she keeps with her, one that appears to be styled after a Diennesse Wedge.”

The Mienshao jolted upright from the railing and shot an alarmed stare back.

“A Diennesse Wedge?” he asked. “How on earth did she get that?“

“She didn’t. Hers is a cheap trinket made of painted stone, of the sort that might be sold as a protective amulet. A scratch test we conducted confirmed as much,” the Salamence explained. “The more important factor is that she’s been holding onto it and been trying to make her way to the Divine Roost at least since we apprehended her, and likely for much longer.”

Lacan shook his head, before turning out towards the evening cityscape and letting his eyes fall over the warren of streets and buildings below.

“The Dyad appears to have heard some of the lore regarding her true nature and is trying to piece those stories together,” he explained. “I believe that’s why she came here—to try and fill in more of those gaps. It’s the most likely thing that would motivate her to risk coming here instead of searching for a safer refuge for a fugitive.”

Siegmund twitched his whiskers briefly, before leaning against the railing of his balcony with a low sigh.

“I suppose it’s hard for me to contest your argument, Graf Lacan. The Diennesse Wedge isn’t exactly common knowledge outside of those who are well-versed in tales of the gods, in particular of its wielder,” he said. “Though there’s far from a singular place in this city where one could find such knowledge. So how do you narrowing down where the Dyad would seek out this knowledge, then?”

Lacan … hadn’t worked that part out. And with the Dyad traveling in the midst of a band of companions, it wasn’t safe to assume that she’d be groping about blindly in Newangle City. The very fact that she’d made it into the city without being detected was strongly suggested at least one of them was familiar with it.

He could see the skeptical glint in Siegmund’s eye. Even if Lacan was the type to blow hot air and prattle on with empty words, he doubted the King would have patience for it.

Perhaps it was best to just be honest, even if it surely wasn’t what the King wanted to hear.

“I suppose I’d start by trying to find places where the Dyad would be looking around in the first place,” he said. “After all, the answers that she seeks aren’t available in casual reading material. So she’d surely be asking others in this city about places where she could potentially find them.”

“Yes, you could certainly do that, and with enough time and soldiers, you’d likely succeed,” the Mienshao replied. “Alternatively, you could steer her to a place where this material is already present.”

The Salamence blinked in surprise and cocked his head with a puzzled frown. ‘Steer’ the Dyad? When he didn’t even know where she was in Newangle City to begin with?

It wasn’t as if Siegmund had poor judgment, the Mienshao’s years of experience as a strategist were testament enough to that. Siegmund had helped draw up the campaigns to drive out Edialeigh’s armies during their last invasion, and personally campaigned on the frontlines to help achieve them—as the scars on the Fighting-type’s body beneath his white cowl attested.

But even so, the Salamence was genuinely at a loss as to how Siegmund expected him to accomplish such a feat.

“I’m… not fully sure how that would be possible at this point in time, Your Majesty,” he said. “What are you proposing that I should do?”

“Well, Graf Lacan. Let me answer your question with one of my own,” the Mienshao insisted. “Did the Dyad come to the City alone? If not, tell me of these ‘ruffians’ she’s traveling with?”

“Outlaw scum from the hinterlands as usual,” Lacan harrumphed. “With how frequently she’s been associating with such Pokémon this year, I’m starting to think that she’s developing a type.”

Or at least as much as she could as a fugitive anyways. Much to Lacan’s surprise, the King’s expression visibly eased, and a small smile came over his muzzle.

“I thought as much based on your past reports you sent me,” the king said. “Though that should speed things up considerably.”

“How… so?”

“I’m not privy to all the details, but the local Gendarmen have had contacts with Pokémon from similar circles in this city,” the Fighting-type explained. “It’s an arrangement that was first set up in King Sansa’s day and all these years later, it still sometimes provides valuable insight as to the goings-on of the more restive quarters of the city.”

Lacan batted his wings subconsciously and glanced around his surroundings. Perhaps it was just reflex from the incident in Errberk Village, but it didn’t hurt to make sure that they weren’t being overheard. It was hardly his place to judge what King Siegmund found necessary to keep his realm secured. Not after much of his early reign had been spent clawing it back from red-clad hordes after a failed attempt at suing for peace. Even so, a part of him was startled to hear the King discussing such unsavory connections so frankly.

Perhaps that explained why Siegmund insisted on having this conversation between just the two of them.

“Get in touch with the Gendarmen and explain your situation. I’m sure that they’ll be able to lean on those contacts to steer these Outlaws towards mounting a heist in short order,” Siegmund instructed. “Was there any place in particular that you had in mind?”

Where on earth would he even start? It wasn’t as if knew every bookshop in Newangle City that might have a dusty mythology tome buried somewhere on its shelves. Though… perhaps he was going about this all wrong. What he needed most was for the Dyad and her companions to reveal themselves and make mistakes. And the most likely sort of place where they would slip up in such a fashion would be one that was normally widely trafficked.

A place like…

“The Royal Library. I’m not sure if I’d want to have the Dyad come there while it’s open to the general public, but I know for sure there would be books she’d be looking for there,” he explained. “Considering how it’s a public institution trafficked by Pokémon from throughout the city, it’s likely she would’ve already considered it as an option.”

Siegmund brought a paw to his chin in thought, before turning aside with a quiet nod.

“Then do so, I will see that the Library is closed for however long you deem necessary,” Siegmund said. “Either those brigands will take the bait, or they’ll give away their location and we can deal with them accordingly. Though don’t leave anything to chance, be sure to have at least five Rotten₁ of your soldiers there for the occasion.”

Lacan jolted his head back with a startled blink. Five Rotten was a good quarter of the troops in Fähnlein Stärke. Troops that could otherwise spend time canvassing the city with local guards. What on earth was Siegmund thinking here?

“Isn’t that an overly large force to center on a library?” he asked. “I was under the impression that the royal commission I was given allowed Fähnlein Stärke to requisition local assistance as needed. There isn’t exactly a shortage of Gendarmen that could do the task.”

The Mienshao king narrowed his eyes briefly, much like how a master painter might scrutinize a disappointing piece by an apprentice. For a moment, Lacan reflexively opened his mouth to protest and offer a defense, only for the Fighting-type to motion for silence.

“I trust that during your pursuit of the Dyad that you’ve been keeping up with current events to some extent,” Sigmund said. “Tell me, what have you heard during your travels regarding Operation Siegfried?”

‘Operation Siegfried’? Lacan hadn’t pried too much into the campaign since he’d heard hearsay about it, but…

“That it was a campaign that captured a port town well behind enemy lines led by a recently-promoted General who transited his forces through a nearby Mystery Dungeon?” he asked. “I must confess that I’ve been a bit behind on news from the frontline lately.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, since barring a catastrophe, most of the details surrounding Operation Siegfried will remain crown secrets until well after my death,” Siegmund explained. “But the long and short of it is that Operation Siegfried was a feint to deflect attention from the route you and your supporting forces will need to take to reach Donaterm City.”

Lacan blinked at the Mienshao’s response. A feint? He had heard that the war effort had been coming under increasing strain as of late, but for the King to already start setting things in motion for Operation Spark when he’d only had the Dyad at all just a few days ago…

The frontlines must have been more precarious than he realized.

“One of the secondary objectives of Operation Siegfried was to gauge what the cost would be in the event that the Dyad had to be recovered on Edialeigher soil,” he explained. “The exercise was carried out with a proxy target who… the Hofstaat hoped could potentially address some of the difficulties regarding my son.”

Lacan caught himself and had to fight to keep himself from raising a brow. The Salamence hadn’t heard much about the Crown Prince in recent years, assuming that Siegmund’s son was even still the Crown Prince with some of the rumors that had swirled about him after Queen Anna’s death…

Though where was Siegmund going with this? After all, he doubted the king had brought the topic to delve into rumors about his family life…

“What was the conclusion of that exercise?”

“That having to recover a Dyad under such conditions would bleed Varhyde’s armies white and risk returning the Kingdom to the chaotic state of affairs I inherited from my father,” he explained.

Lacan bristled at Siegmund’s explanation. But everyone in Varhyde who was old enough knew of the times Siegmund alluded to. Of how not even a year into King Siegmund’s reign, the Benzen Uprising broke out at a time when the war in Edialeigh seemed to be stalemating.

Town after town along the coast of Sundered Sea erupted into open revolt against the crown afterwards. Soldiers had to be pulled from the frontlines to try and quell the disorder, including his own father. The frontlines on Edialeigh’s soil collapsed because of it, and within the span of a year, Edialeigh’s soldiers in their red plates were laying waste to towns along the coast. Loyalist and rebel-held alike.

Including his own hometown, whose persistent loyalty to the crown had not saved it from such a fate.

Lacan didn’t want to believe that there were truly enough fools among the commonfolk who would risk repeating such a catastrophe. And yet, if history was any guide, King Siegmund’s fears were more than justified.

“It goes without saying that it is paramount to avoid returning the realm to such circumstances, which is the entire reason why I approved Operation Spark,” the Mienshao insisted, shaking his head. “With how much trouble the Dyad has given you over the past year, it’d be the height of negligence for you not to err on the side of caution with apprehending her.”

Lacan fell silent and turned aside. Even so, he dug in his claws. Yes, he understood the King’s argument. But at the same time, there was a critical oversight with the Mienshao’s plan:

“I understand your concerns, Your Majesty. But even so, I must contest your strategy there,” the Salamence insisted. “I wouldn’t want all those soldiers present. Or at least not all outside the library.”

Lacan watched as Siegmund twitched his whiskers puzzledly and eyed him keenly. The Dragon-type weighed his words in his mind, before he spoke up to explain himself in a rumbling voice.

“After all, if the Dyad saw that many soldiers prowling outside the Royal Library, she would likely decide to try her luck elsewhere,” he explained. “It would be best to lure her inside and have those soldiers lie in wait to ambush her there. She’d be unlikely to make it out of the building, and even if it did, it’d buy time for the other units to converge and either apprehend her outside, or else follow her back to her hiding place.”

Siegmund hesitated a moment, before letting a small, proud smile creep up over his muzzle.

“You really do take after your father, don’t you? With a mind like that, I look forward to seeing the same White Wings about your neck, and you using your skills at the fore of this realm’s armies.”

Lacan blinked a moment at the weasel’s words. The White Wings of a Feldmarschall? The pattern modeled after Reshiram’s wings and its attendant baton was the mark of the highest rank a soldier could have in the army, and granted its holder the rights and privileges of a high noble. A part of Lacan felt a swell of pride over the idea of being able to wear the same patterns as his father, an honor normally reserved for Generals who had managed feats such as capturing a major settlement in battle.

But there would be plenty of time to daydream about honors after Operation Spark succeeded, and just its success would be a reward higher than any rank that could be bestowed:

A chance to avenge all the destruction and misery that Edialeigh had left on this land. On his world.

“Though is there anything else that you need for your mission?”

Lacan studied the King’s expression carefully, even if they both understood how paramount Operation Spark’s success was, he wasn’t sure how the King would react to him asking for still more assistance.

“There are a few tomes from the Royal Library that would be helpful to cross-reference for my mission. And obviously, extra bodies to help search for the Dyad,” the Salamence replied. “But we’d already be spending time around the Royal Library, and the issue of additional strength can be solved by assisting Gendarmen if need be. After all, considering how Fähnlein Stärke was formed to be a covert unit, working through proxies is probably the safer course of action to preserve Operation Spark’s secrecy.”

The Fighting-type cocked a brow, before turning and facing him as his expression grew stern.

“Really? Nothing at all?” the Mienshao asked. “Feldmarschall Kant was loyal to my father and I until the bitter end. It would be unbecoming of me to not repay it by extending such a favor to his flesh and blood.”

Lacan stiffened up briefly and fidgeted his wings. It always made a part of him feel uneasy leaning on his father’s accomplishments to get things, especially when it didn’t feel like he’d properly earned them. King Siegmund had already given him no shortage of aid while growing up on account of his friendship with his late father. Just what on earth could he offer at this point?

“Personal sentiment aside, you are in the Kingdom’s capital, Graf,” Siegmund said. “There’s certain resources that will be hard to access again once you leave it. If you can think of anything here that you think would materially help Operation Spark’s chances of success, by all means, tell me.”

Lacan opened his mouth only to catch himself. There was one thing he could think of asking for, but the last time he’d brought it up with the Generalstab, he’d been brushed aside and told his concerns dealt with crown secrets.

Well, he was here with King Siegmund himself, and if there was ever going to be an opportunity to ask…

“I would like a chance to review any records regarding what transpired during Operation Avalanche,” he said. “In particular, if there were any from during King Sansa’s reign specifically dealing with how it reached its ultimate resolution.”

Siegmund pulled his cowl tight around his body and narrowed his eyes. Lacan briefly bit his tongue, wondering if he’d perhaps been a bit too bold in his request. The specifics of what had happened in Operation Avalanche were murky, with the only agreement being that it had at once gone horrifically awry, while also helping to usher in the end of the Advent War. The war between Varhyde and Edialeigh before the one that raged in the present day.

… No, Siegmund had asked him for anything that he needed. No matter how it made him look, he’d be a fool not to try and make the most of the Fighting-type’s offer.

“I realize that it surely sounds presumptuous to ask for such a thing, but with how little of a margin for error we have, it would be best for me and my subordinates to know everything we have to know before we hit the sea,” he insisted. “A part of that would be understanding what went wrong with the Kingdom’s past attempt at securing and drawing upon the power of a Dyad like the one we pursue today.”

The Mienshao stared at him wordlessly for a moment, before folding his arms with a dubious frown.

“And you intend to accomplish all this while organizing a search for the Dyad at the same time?” the king pressed. “Isn’t that a bit much for you to shoulder alone?”

“I’m well aware, Your Majesty,” Lacan said. “That was why it was my intention to dispatch my Oberstleutnant to review those records for me.”

Siegmund seemed genuinely surprised by that comment. The Mienshao briefly looked through the windows, where Sophia was seated at the table in the waiting room at attention and worriedly stealing glances at her surroundings.

There was a long silence, which Lacan thought to try and explain his rationale further. The moment he opened his mouth, the Mienshao frowned and shot a wary, sidelong glance from the corner of his eye.

“And not assigning her to organize the search for the Dyad in your place as an Oberstleutnant? Are you sure about this, Graf Lacan?” the Mienshao pressed. “I understand that the Generalstab likely already provided you a truncated version of events, but there is a reason why you were instructed to be sparing about sharing details of Operation Spark and the things that would be needed to see its success through. As I’m sure you already know, the way the commonfolk would react to such details becoming known would be… unpredictable, to say the least.”

“I’m aware, and Oberstleutnant Sophia is more than capable of shouldering such a burden. She’s been a dutiful member of the Ritter von Herbergau and a loyal subordinate for years,” the Salamence retorted. “She has gone above and beyond in her duties to the crown during this mission and long before it. I’d trust her with my life.“

Lacan didn’t realize how forceful his words were coming out until the ending enunciation reverberated in his ears. He bit the inside of his mouth and fought back a grimace. He’d always been quick to come to Sophia’s defense, but addressing the King in such a tone surely wasn’t helping his case.

“Your Majesty, I-“

“Have told me enough to make an informed decision.”

Siegmund raised a paw for a stop, before brushing his cowl aside with a quiet click of his tongue.

“Tell your Oberstleutnant once you go back inside to report to the Royal Reliquary effective immediately,” he said. “I will arrange for her to review whatever files can be gathered up there.”

Lacan had to fight to keep his jaw from flopping open out of surprise. He supposed Siegmund did say to ask him for anything, but a part of him wasn’t sure how earnest the Mienshao was. Even so, there was a grave air about the Fighting-type, as he turned his snout up with a stern frown.

“This isn’t a favor I grant lightly, Graf Lacan. Even if I admit that it’s motivated in part by personal sentiment,” he said. “If at all possible, I’d like to see you come home alive after Operation Spark to see the fruits of your and your father’s labor. To see what I wasn’t able to give Anna thanks to my cowardice and naivete when I was younger…”

The Mienshao king trailed off as a wistful look came over his face, he turned and gazed out at the night sky and the sprawl bounded by the city’s circular walls below.

“A realm that’s finally at lasting peace. One where Pokémon that dwell in it will never have to fear the capricious desires of the Pokémon across the sea in Edialeigh or their depredations,” Siegmund remarked. “One where Edialeigh’s crown and their so-called ‘City of Light’ from which it reigns from are but faded cinders and faded memories.”

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It’d been about an hour after Lyle and his teammates made their way northward from that strange chamber with the concrete platforms. Unlike the tunnels they’d gone through earlier, the ones around them right now were much wider, and somehow even more barren and desolate. Some of the tunnels’ walls and ceiling were pitted and looked much like they were parts of a natural formation, aside from a few chunks here and there that still had smooth sections of concrete. The ground was similarly irregular, with portions of the ground which were gouged with shallow pits and rises that were partly filled with stagnant water. And every now and then, Lyle swore he’d see a corroded metal bar lying around. Occasionally, there’d be a pile of rubble he and the others would have to climb over or snake around in whatever space remained—the leftovers of prior cave-ins. Not recent ones, he hoped.

Their only companions the entire time had been the hums of the Wonder Orbs they’d occasionally been rubbing to make sure they were ready for use. More worrisome was how the entire time, they didn’t seem to be short on would-be foes. As they went down the tunnels, they’d occasionally hear sounds of movement in the distance or catch glimpses of eyes glowing further off in the darkness. On a couple occasions, they even ran into a Wilder that ambushed them. A Rattata here, a Voltorb there…

“Skree!”

Along the Zubat he just shot out of the air with a Flamethrower and left twitching weakly at the wall of the tunnel. Lyle braced himself in anticipation of more to come, since Wilder Zubat weren’t solitary creatures. Fortunately, nobody else came, and after a glance back at his teammates, he saw Dalton venturing ahead and motioning with a hand to hurry along.

“That fight made more noise than I’d hoped,” the Heliolisk murmured. “We should get going before anyone else comes to investigate.”

Music to his ears, really. Lyle quickly hurried along with his teammates and took his place back at the head of the group as they continued on deeper into the tunnel. He knew he’d heard of long tunnels made back in human times, but this one just kept going and going…

That other chamber had to be close by now, right? The encounters he and his teammates hadn’t been particularly hard, but they were starting to take their toll. Enough so that they’d already had to stop once to distribute healing berries between themselves. It didn’t help that those ambushes seemed to always involve Pokémon that were just beyond Lyle’s sight from his body’s fire. Oftentimes, their only warning was just a growl or the sound of pattering footsteps right before being attacked.

“How much further do we need to keep going like this?”

Lyle turned his head back towards Irune and saw her clinging tight to Kate with a nervous gulp. He would’ve thought that she’d be able to see better than him with her farsight, but even so, she seemed to be visibly rattled. Kate looked down at her with what seemed like a twinge of pity, and briefly patted the Axew’s head before turning to Dalton.

“Scales, you’re the guide here,” she said. “Are we there yet?”

Why was Irune so rattled at the moment anyways? Was it because they were quite literally in the dark right now? Or was something else weighing on her? He started to pace toward her as Dalton brushed past him and went deeper off into the tunnel. The Heliolisk went ahead a few paces, when he paused and studied the tunnel lit up by the glow of Lyle’s fire.

“Almost. We should be entering the remains of another chamber like the one we were in earlier,” Dalton said. “Once we get there, there should be some steps up on the right that will take us back up to the surface across the river from the Administrative District.”

Lyle hoped that getting out of the place wasn’t also going to be a pain in the ass, but he supposed that it was nice knowing that they’d see the sky again soon enough. He carried on as Dalton studied the wall briefly and walked along its length, running a hand along it when the Heliolisk suddenly stumbled. Lyle flared up and hurried over as Dalton sharply pulled his foot back. Gottverdammt, another Wilder? It was some sort of crustacean that had an Occa Berry’s color with a flash of cream on its underbelly. Wait, those claws, that fan-like tail, it was-!

“Gah, there’s Corphish down here, too?!” Kate cried.

Lyle jumped back and arched his body, as his teammates took battle positions. Except… the Corphish just kept staring off blankly into the tunnel, fixed and unmoving. Lyle crept forward and sniffed at the Corphish, only to realize that it didn’t smell anything like one. He snuck up and gave a wary poke at it when discovered that it wasn’t hard to the touch. It was like it was a doll, or…

“A Substitute?” he murmured.

He definitely wasn’t expecting to see one of those down here. Lyle knew that Substitutes were sometimes used as more than just training dummies like the ones Amp and Watt had at their shop. Back in his hometown, some of the younger Pokémon would keep them around as dolls, especially if their parents were too tight on money to afford one that wouldn’t melt into mist if it was thrown around too much.

Except that still didn’t explain why it was just lying around.

“Keep your fire dim from past this point, Lyle. This last stretch could get a bit dicey.”

Lyle looked over at Dalton and immediately noticed that the Heliolisk looked on edge—much as if he’d seen a ghost. He followed the Electric-type’s gaze off to the wall, where there was a ruddy, sloppily painted sigil on the wall… which looked like some sort of Crawdaunt’s claw. Lyle glanced off at his side and Kate and Irune staring up at it, before Kate blinked and turned aside with a small frown.

“Scales, isn’t that going to make things harder for us?” she harrumphed, folding her arms. “I know that my darkvision is decent, but it’s not as if the Wilders that live down here aren’t more used to it than me.”

Lyle expected Dalton to waver more after Kate’s counterpoint, especially since he was the one with the busted arm that didn’t mix well with scuffles. But the Heliolisk’s expression didn’t change at all as he warily glanced down the length of the tunnel.

“Just trust me on this one,” the Electric-type said in a low tone. “A lot of these tunnels are less empty than they look, and there’s more than just Wilders down here.”

There… were? Lyle hesitated a moment at Dalton’s demeanor and noticed Irune starting to get visibly worried. She stole uneasy glances around her, before tilting her head puzzledly.

“… Do you mean that there’s Grünhäuter patrolling down here?” she asked. “I thought that you said these tunnels weren’t used outside of times of crisis.”

Dalton blinked and hesitated a moment, before pawing at the back of his head with the hand on his good arm.

“Well, yes. I suppose that wouldn’t be impossible,” the Heliolisk said. “It’s a big tunnel system, and I suppose there have been stories of them using these tunnels to get around in past sieges…”

He trailed off, his posture tense and braced as if he expected them to be jumped at any moment.

“But they aren’t who I was worried about right now,” he said. “I’m more concerned about others who had the same idea as us.”

‘Others who had the same idea as us’? As in other Outlaws? It hadn’t occurred to Lyle that there’d be others beyond themselves down here…though from personal experience, Outlaws weren’t above territorial squabbles like Wilders. Or the Kingdom itself for that matter. But there were really bands of Outlaws that managed to hold out here in the Capital with all the guards roaming around?

That was probably as good of an argument for not brushing Dalton’s advice aside. After all, any Outlaw gang that could make it in a territory like this was definitely not one they wanted to get on the bad side of.

Lyle fought against his vent and tamped down the fire coming from them, the visibility in the tunnel dropping down to about twenty paces in any direction. After asking Dalton for instructions of what to do next, he drifted over with his teammates for the right wall of the tunnel, glancing up at the pitted and scarred wall above him.

“Gods, I can’t wait until we’re out of this hole,” Lyle grumbled. “And here I thought Waterhead Cave was unpleasant to go through.”

He carried on with Dalton walking alongside him to his left, just in case there was something else the Heliolisk noticed that they should be aware of. The tunnel walls drifted past them mostly in darkness, time seeming to slow to a crawl as he felt his heart thump in his chest. After a small eternity which surely couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes, the wall abruptly gave way to half-crumbled remains of a concrete platform. Lyle clambered up and stopped to help his teammates up and then down a shattered hallway that appeared to have once had straight, smooth walls.

He briefly spotted a faded blue square with a white glyph a little ways down along the side of the wall next to a fork in the path, when Kate’s ears suddenly pricked up. Then his own did the same. Footsteps, not far away and growing louder.

“Somebody’s here,” Kate whispered.

Lyle fought against his body’s flames and cut the fire from his vents entirely, plunging him and the rest of Team Forager into darkness. He held his breath as the sound came again, this time mixed with the sound of wingbeats. Maybe they were just getting wound up over the likes of more Wilders, but after Dalton’s warning earlier…

“Think it’s more Wilders?” Lyle asked. “Whoever’s out there, they don’t sound big.”

“Oi, Igna! We’ve got intruders poking about in here!” a voice squawked. “Up there past the platforms, one of them had fire on his body!”

Lyle reflexively lit up again with a start at the cawing voice. He hurriedly tamped his fire out, but the damage was already done. There further down the tunnel was a pair of ghostly blue lights along some sort of whitish rod, with a glimpse of a bipedal figure about his height holding it.

He couldn’t get a good view of the figure holding the light, but just from the glimpse and the sound of increasingly large-sounding footsteps and wingbeats, it was obvious the Pokémon out there weren’t exactly small and unthreatening like he’d hoped. Lyle felt his heart begin to flutter and set his teeth on edge as he fought back a quiet whine from his throat.

“A-Ach, Schei-₂”

“So much for an easy exit,” Kate whispered. “Looks like we’re gonna have to fight our way out of here.”

Kate flashed her claws and started to walk ahead, only to abruptly stop as Irune blocked her path. The Axew looked up at her, with an expression that struck Lyle as being equal parts anxious and frustrated.

“Kate, we have no idea who we’re up against!” Irune hissed. “We can’t just blindly pick a fight here!”

“It won’t stay a battle between two Pokémon either, Kate,” Dalton added. “I would’ve hoped you as an Outlaw by trade would expect as much starting a fight with rivals.”

“Well give some better ideas to work with then!” Kate snapped.

Lyle felt his heart pound as the light neared and grew ever-clearer in his vision, when his mind turned back to when they first entered the Undercity. Earlier on, there was that strange blue-and-white sigil at the end of a tunnel on their side of the chamber. If this was really a place with a way out, wouldn’t it likely have a sigil like that, too?

It was just a hunch, but he didn’t have any better ideas to work with at the moment. The winged Pokémon with the figure with the torch or whatever it was was doing a flyover now. It wouldn’t be long before the two ran into them, along with any buddies of theirs.

“Dalton. You know how we saw that symbol coming into the Undercity?” Lyle asked. “Do those show up anywhere in particular chambers like these?”

“The ones that are still around usually are nearsteps that go up towards the surface,” Dalton explained. “Or at least to ones that used to, why?”

“There’s one in by that branching path up ahead, so that’s probably our way out of here,” the Quilava insisted. “Come on, we’re gonna need to make a run for it!”

Lyle abruptly lit up as the right wall of the chamber with its mottled teal paint came into view and bolted ahead after where he’d remembered seeing the white sigil. Sure enough, it was in a passage that split at both ends, and was quickly approaching… along with their pursuers.

“Hey! Stop and put your paws where we can see them!” the cawing voice cried.

Lyle didn’t bother to stop or even look back, and instead kept running. A slicing gust of wind and a gout of bluish, ghostly fire zipped in, a yelp from Kate suggesting that they’d missed by hairs. Lyle quickly whipped his head between both directions at the fork, and after seeing pricks of colored light from the right, hurriedly bounded up the steps.

He tore along and looked back to see his teammates rounding the corner, with the sound of the pursuing wingbeats and footsteps right behind them. It dawned on him that they weren’t going to be able to outrun their pursuers, so they had to do something to buy some time or else they’d be quite literally fighting in the dark in short order. The Quilava hastily rifled through his bag, blindly grabbing at a Wonder Orb inside and lobbing it just as he spotted the glow of ghostly fire coming around the corner.

The Orb broke with the sound of shattering glass, followed by a pair of startled yelps. Gottverdammt, they could’ve used that in a Mystery Dungeon! It’d have worked against an entire chamber in there, while he’d have been lucky to have worked more than ten paces out using it right here and now!

“Agh! Ansel, you idiot! You could’ve told me they were right there!“

He supposed whatever he’d grabbed, that ten or so paces was enough, even if it was a bit unnerving to think that their ambushers were that close to them. The Quilava turned to his companions, who briefly faltered and glanced back in disbelief, before he motioned up the steps impatiently.

“Go! Go! Go!”

Lyle tore along and darted up the stairs as best as their size would allow him. He reached the top, and came across a tunnel that had been covered with wooden boards. The others caught up shortly afterwards and immediately began frantically feeling around for any sign of a loose plank to pull aside. There was a creak, when Lyle turned over to Kate and saw her tugging at one that looked loose…

And riddled with claw marks on it.

“Hey wait a minute,” she said. “Looks like someone’s come through here before-“

The board abruptly gave way under her weight, and sent her pitching forward. Lyle hurriedly followed after her and tumbled out onto a set of worn and ground-down steps with some weathered propaganda posters and a pile of shattered exposure chests that reminded him of the back of the Box Buster shop in his home village. Big cities had Box Busters too, didn’t they?

Kate hastily picked herself up and dusted herself off as Dalton and Irune caught up. Lyle turned and bolted up the steps, he saw that overhead, the sunlight was gone, replaced with moonlight along with bluish auroras that he glimpsed between narrow gaps overhead in some sort of alley. He ran ahead wherever the alleys took him, running along what felt like a veritable warren until he popped out into a cobbled street with a few passersby drifting past.

He paused to let his racing heart slow down as he heard his teammates catch up, only to pause after looking at his surroundings. All about them were various buildings and shacks with thatched and shingled roofs, with the spires of the Administrative District off in the distance towards the south crowned with a fiery light coming from the top of Dämmerungsturm. The Quilava turned and stared at the darkened monoliths against the starry sky and the bands of colored light behind them, when Dalton’s voice pricked his ears.

“Lyle?”

Lyle turned and saw Dalton pawing at his left shoulder with his good arm, with the Heliolisk’s eyes narrowed into an annoyed scowl.

“From now on, let’s try and stay out of trouble until we make it to those marketplaces, got it?”

He nodded back all too eagerly. He’d had enough excitement for one day, and it’d be nice to have some peace and quiet before finally getting some sleep.

---

After leaving the Undercity, Lyle was all too eager to get away from the exit tunnel they’d taken, just in case those two Pokémon they’d run into were attempting to track them. The first thing that Lyle noticed as he went along was that the district they’d stepped out into was cramped with narrow and winding streets, some of which looked like they’d struggle to fit a larger Puller passing through, let alone a wagon. It sort of reminded him of the district where they’d gotten off Boudewijn’s raft, and he swore that a few of the shabby-looking buildings looked like they’d been made of the same timbers as the barges and rafts even if he couldn’t see signs of a dock anywhere.

Even so, there were still differences from the neighborhood around the docks. Here, there would occasionally be the skeleton of a taller human ruin which rose up, unclaimed by civilization from the gutted upper levels and darkened silhouettes of branches that could be seen against the auroras and moonlight. And while the area around the docks hadn’t exactly been obviously wealthy, it certainly felt a cut above their present surroundings.

“Is that part of a boat? Dalton, where did you take us?”

Lyle turned and saw Irune pointing and gaping at a post jutting out from a building facade with a carving of a Gyarados head that looked like it was styled after a ship’s prow. Hell, it probably was a ship’s prow once from the way the paint was flaking off of it. He turned and cocked a head at Dalton himself. What was the story behind this neighborhood anyways?

“This is Shift Square, a district just to the east of the Great Arena and the neighborhoods built on its slopes where more normal Pokémon live,” Dalton explained. “There’s a stretch of shoreline along the bridge that I was originally going to take to get here that has places where boats are brought in to be scrapped.”

Lyle supposed that explained the nearby buildings, even if he was surprised to hear that Pokémon would live this meagerly just across the river from where the King and Hofstaat lived. Kate seemed even less impressed than he did, and had a twinge of discomfort cross her face.

“I don’t think I missed much by never coming here before,” she muttered. “I’ve spent time in refugee camps that felt less miserable than this!”

Lyle wasn’t sure if he agreed with Kate there, though from what he knew of her history, she was definitely more qualified to cast judgment. Neighborhoods that felt worn-down and meager weren’t exactly rare in even Varhyde’s smaller towns, but now that Kate mentioned it, the buildings seemed to get visibly shabbier as they went along. Some of them were obviously put together from scraps of unpainted wood and metal. Others went without blinds or shutters for windows, while still others didn’t have doors beyond some cloth strips hung over the doorway—the sort of thing one would expect from a rural peasant barely able to afford a mat and mailpost for their burrow or nest.

“I… suppose that portions of Shift Square did used to be refugee encampments earlier on in the war,” Dalton said. “I guess that parts of it still reflect those origins.”

Lyle hoped that they wouldn’t be here too much longer, since even the streets seemed to get worse as they went along. The back lanes grew increasingly cluttered with untended garbage, a few carrying vile, gag-inducing odors that the Quilava tried not to think too hard about. The one spot that seemed to be a reprieve from it all was a weirdly tidy corner with a set of wooden boards set up with line after line of tiny runes on them. He wasn’t sure what it was at first, when he noticed flowers and little stones and notes set at their base.

… Just like the Gedenksteine₃ in his hometown, where Pokémon who’d died from the war and weren’t able to be sent off at home had their names engraved. These boards were obviously shabbier since they were made of wood, and they had a hell of a lot more names on them.

He hurried and continued along after that, and noticed his teammates had similarly had a chill come over their moods. Nobody said anything afterwards until they spotted a line of Pokémon queued up at an open-backed cart manned by some Pokémon in green plates next to some lanterns that had been set up. Most of the Pokémon lining up looked visibly lean, a few had missing limbs or other ugly scars, all waiting for packets being handed out from the back of the wagon.

Lyle knew what the line to a food dole looked like, and he knew how unruly they could get if it came up short. With the tense, sullen mood in the crowd and how the Gendarmen would occasionally shove back Pokémon trying to sneak around them, he already knew it was a bad idea to hang around.

“Is there a side street that we can take, Dalton?” he asked. “That crowd up ahead just screams trouble.”

“Yeah, off to the right.”

Lyle hurriedly rounded the corner with his teammates and moved along. They didn’t need to risk the Gendarmen noticing them, and none of them needed to get a good look at that sort of misery right here and now. Irune seemed to be visibly bothered by her surroundings, and she went over and tugged at Dalton’s side with a worried frown.

“Is… it really a good idea to be stealing from Pokémon in a place like this?” she asked. “It just feels so… meager.”

“Things are thankfully a bit less rough in the area around those marketplaces, but there’s a bit more of this to go through before we reach them,” the Heliolisk said. “Though there are worse places we could’ve wound up in. Like Zelba City. Now that district is a real dump.”

Wait, there were districts here called ‘cities’? There was probably some story behind that, but Lyle wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what that place was like if Dalton was comparing it negatively to this one. He and Team Forager entered an intersection of back alleys, with clotheslines dangling between rows of ramshackle tenements. Lyle noticed Dalton slow as they passed through, as he stopped and pointed off to their right.

“After all, even if you won’t find a noble’s salon around here, you can’t say that the residents don’t at least try to make things feel a bit more homely.”

Lyle turned and followed the Heliolisk’s finger off towards a small, crude pavillion made of unpainted wood with misaligned shutters. There were a few odds and ends set out in various places, their arrangement giving away that the place was some sort of shrine. Irune seemed particularly fixed at the sight, before she turned her head over to them.

“If we’re not in a hurry, could we take a look?”

Lyle traded glances with Kate and Dalton. On the one paw, they weren’t going to get to those marketplaces any quicker like this. On the other paw, the shrine was right here, and small enough that it wouldn’t take long to duck in and out.

And with how their luck had been lately, even if it was on the superstitious side, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to try and curry a bit of divine favor.

“Fine. But I’m not sure what you’re expecting to find in a neighborhood as poor as this one,” Lyle said. “Just make it quick. We still need to hit up those marketplaces and find a place to sleep tonight.”

He shuffled up to the entrance of the pavillion along with his teammates, only to freeze in surprise once he crossed the threshold. All around him were a collection of wooden statues and painted panels dedicated to various gods. Made well enough and with enough care that they looked more at home along that path up to the Reshiram statue in the Administrative District than in a dump like this.

Maybe that was a bit unfair to Shift Square’s Pokémon, since even if there hadn’t been any living gods in Varhyde for years, they still commanded respect among the Kingdom’s Pokémon. He supposed the shrine being shared between gods should’ve been less surprising to him as well. After all, he remembered Moonturn Square had one where a statue of Celebi shared the same roof with one to Hoopa.

Even so, this was the first time he’d ever seen a shrine to so many gods in one place. One corner of the pavillion was devoted to Ho-Oh, the Great Bird of Seven Colors, with incense and fragrant ash set out. Another to Xerneas, the Voice of Life, with wooden branches set out. Why, there was even a corner set aside for Latios. Lyle blinked and went over, where he saw a few coins left sitting at the base of the statue. The sight drew a smile and small chuckle from Dalton as he walked by and picked a few of the coins up from the base.

“Honestly, this little shack feels more earnest than that big statue back at the overlook,” Dalton remarked. “The Pokémon that lived here wanted to make this shrine and pooled their own efforts to put it together.”

Lyle noticed Irune paying particularly rapt attention to something behind the Latios statue. He turned to look himself and saw that on the wooden panels behind the statue, there were scenes of the Latios playfully wheeling about in the sky. The scenes were a bit rough around the edges, but their creator had clearly invested a lot of care and effort on behalf of his patron.

One that gave the urge to just stop and stay a while taking them in.

“I… guess I can see where you’re coming from,” the Axew murmured. “Latios looks so… free in these paintings. I don’t know if a shrine commissioned by a noble would ever look like this.”

‘Free’, huh? If it weren’t for the fact that the Vatername he saw on Irune’s wanted poster back in Errberk Village was the sort which Wilders recruited into civilization had, he’d have guessed that Irune’s dad had been a Carrier or something like that. A set of clinks snapped him out of his thoughts as Dalton returned the offerings back to their place beside the Latios shrine and continued on. He followed after, only to see the Heliolisk suddenly freeze just ahead. Kate caught his change in demeanor, too, and tilted her head puzzledly.

“Scales? Why are you reacting like tha-?”

Lyle caught a glimpse of black paint splattered about up ahead and stopped dead in his tracks after rounding the corner. The space ahead had been a shrine to Reshiram, except the panels had black paint thrown onto them, recently enough that he could see beads still dripping like black tar. The wooden statue to Reshiram had met a similar fate, and been toppled over with gashes cut into it.

Something came over Lyle and he hurriedly turned the statue up, setting it back on its stand. He’d never considered himself as the type of ‘mon to put much stock in dead gods, but something about seeing this humble shrine defaced like this just didn’t sit well with him. Dalton and Kate stared blankly ahead as Irune went up and pawed at the statue. She put a hand on the black paint, only to pull it back sharply after discovering it was still wet.

“I- I don’t understand,” she stammered. “Who would do something like this?”

“Look up,” Kate remarked. “It should give you a few ideas.”

‘Look up’? Lyle followed after Kate’s claw and went rigid with shock. There, to the side of the black paint were a set of scrawled runes and the silhouette of a great, deep black dragon with outstretched wings and a dart-like tail.

Zekrom, the patron god of Edialeigh, and the Endbringer who was said to have razed entire kingdoms with his lightning.

“I’m going to go ahead and guess that’s not supposed to be part of this shrine,” Lyle murmured.

“Gee, what tipped you off there, Lyle?” Kate scoffed. “The fact that it’s a scrawled mess? Or that there’s still black paint dripping down?”

Lyle held his tongue at the Sneasel’s remark, not least of all because the scene was uncomfortably familiar. He supposed it was only to be expected when there had once been a proper shrine to Zekrom in his hometown.

He never fully understood why it was so. The way his parents explained it to him, it and a number of shrines like it had been built in Varhyde during the reign of King Sansa. At a time when as impossible as it sounded, Zekrom was said to have once been friendly to Varhyde… one that was swiftly drowned out and forgotten when the Dragon of Deep Black once again brought death and destruction alongside Edialeigh’s forces later on in King Sansa’s reign.

Back in the early years of the war before the gods that took part of it all killed each other off.

Lyle supposed that even if those memories were hazy now, that Varhyde’s Pokémon never forgot what happened. Or forgave it. Even if the Zekrom shrine in town was boarded up and decaying after being torched in the past, it was still standing. He’d never heard of another one in Varhyde all his life that was in a better state than it.

“I-I just don’t understand why whoever did this would need to destroy a shrine to make their own,” Irune murmured. “Reshiram and Zekrom are counterparts to each other and at least where I grew up, there was a shrine to Zekrom in it.”

Lyle stiffened up at the Axew’s reply and whirled around, just in time to catch Dalton and Kate staring at her much as if her tusks had just fallen off. Irune also came from a village that still had a shrine to Zekrom? He doubted she ever saw what it really looked like or that it was in good condition, but still, that was one hell of a coincidence.

“Because whoever made this wasn’t interested in making a shrine,” Dalton said. “That message is a curse.”

Dalton pointed out the set of runes underneath the scrawl of Zekrom, made in the same paint, with loose, messy strokes much as if made in a fit of rage. He had to read the line a couple of times since some of the runes used didn’t look like ones which were normally used, but he thought that he managed to piece together the message…

“‘May the gods hear our cries for aid and judge this den of liars,'” the Quilava said. “Am… I reading that right?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s correct, yes,” Dalton remarked. “I… might be reaching for the next line, but I’m pretty it says. ‘May they grant this hole the same peace they visited upon Freeden Village.'”

Lyle reflexively pinned his ears back at Dalton’s narration. Gods, whoever wrote that sure knew how to get under his hide. The Heliolisk trailed off and pawed underneath the runes, giving a frowning shake of their head.

“You definitely don’t see too many Pokémon write a message out like that,” he said. “Especially not with some of the runes this ‘mon used. Or at least, not among Pokémon from Varhyde.”

… Meaning that an Edialeigher wrote it? Lyle supposed that he couldn’t definitively rule it out after they came across that Charmeleon earlier, and it was genuinely hard to imagine a Varhyder doing something like this to a shrine of the land’s patron goddess.

“W-Wait, what did that writer mean by that last bit?” Irune asked. “I’ve- I’ve been to Freeden Village before and there wasn’t anything obviously special about it!”

Lyle turned and stared at Irune as she turned her head up at Dalton and noticed that she looked visibly alarmed. Did she not really know the tale of how Freeden Village was said to have earned the disfavor of the gods? After all, if an Edialeigher had heard the tale to allude to the ‘peace’ the gods gave to his hometown, what were the odds that Irune hadn’t?

Actually, as crazy as it sounded… could Irune have also been from Freeden Village like him? While he admittedly hadn’t been back home for almost three years at this point, he couldn’t say he ever remembered seeing her in the village when he was younger. Even so, that reaction of hers felt familiar, like ones he’d had on a couple of occasions when he was still new to the Foehn Gang… and a couple assholes on the gang had found out about his hometown and ribbed him over being as living jinx carrying the town’s curse.

… Maybe he was just overthinking things. Varhyde wasn’t a small kingdom, enough so that he barely knew about the towns past the neighboring Grafschaften where he grew up. It was surely more likely than the two of them somehow hailing from the same two-bit village without ever knowing each other.

He considered just asking Irune and settling the matter once and for all, only to bite his tongue. Maybe it was better to set the topic aside. If she had somehow grown up in Freeden Village, he was sure that one way or another, he’d know for sure eventually. It was probably time to move on anyways, since lingering around this of all things wasn’t exactly going to lift the mood.

“It’s just a curse some punk put up,” Lyle huffed. “Let’s just get out of here right now.”

He made his way out of the shrine as Kate and Dalton followed after him. As he turned back into the alleyway, he noticed that Irune wasn’t there with them. He poked his head back through the entrance, where he saw her still looking back at the desecrated Reshiram shrine. The Axew shook her head and shuffled back out and rejoined them with an uneasy paw at her shoulder.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting. Though I suppose you’re right and we’ve got more important things to worry about…” she murmured. “Though what do we do now?”

Kate paused a moment and let her ear flick at the sound of something in the distance, before raising a claw and motioning off down the alley to their left. There at the end, Lyle could spot glimpses of colorful stalls and different figures slipping past the mouth of the alleyway.

“Scales, is that the marketplace we were looking for?” she asked.

“The edge of it, yes,” Dalton said. “We might as well get started, though stay sharp. Just because we’re not in Armory Alley right now doesn’t mean that things can’t go sideways for us quickly.”

---

Much as Dalton had predicted, after slipping out of the alleyway, Kate and the rest of Team Forager came across Shift Square’s marketplaces. They were clustered along both sides of a road that headed off towards a bridge going back towards the Administrative District as buildings of three to five stories of wood and scrap clustered among gutted human ruins. Layout and towering ruins aside, it didn’t all that different from that marketplace they’d gone through in Moonturn Square…

Aside from the fact that it was still crowded at this late hour, with throngs of Pokémon continuing to do their trading and bartering under the glow of lanterns hung out over stalls and shopfronts and hung across streets on lines. A great place to just slow down and soak in the hustle and bustle of passing Pokémon and wagons.

“Hey! Stop!”

Kate ignored the cries of protest as she snagged a Luminous Orb off the counter of a wood-and-canvas stall tended by a Kadabra and took off running. She dashed ahead, ducking and weaving past passersby before popping into a back alley. The others were already waiting there and waiting for her, including Dalton, who sized her up briefly with a small frown.

“You should’ve been more careful about picking marks, Kate,” the Heliolisk remarked. “Many of the vendors here aren’t exactly pushovers.”

Kate couldn’t help but scoff internally at the Heliolisk’s remark. They’d attempted to seek marks quite literally at the doorstep of a Hunter’s Guild once already in their journey. So long as they were quick on their feet, how could this possibly be any more risky?

“Ah, lighten up, Scales,” Kate insisted, giving a dismissive wave of her claws. “We’ve already made up most of those items we burned through back in Primordial Woods. Not bad for only our third go!”

The Heliolisk briefly rolled his eyes, but didn’t contest the point. Good enough, Kate supposed. She started putting away the Luminous Orb into her bag as Irune looked at her, when she noticed the Axew was holding a meager coinpurse. So she’d managed to actually steal something after all… except, why did she look like she was expecting the sky to cave in on her at any moment?

“Don’t you think we’ve taken enough already?” Irune asked. “These Pokémon probably worked hard to get the things we’re stealing from them. And the longer we keep at this, the more likely we are to run into trouble.”

Kate pinned her ears back with a quiet sigh. She supposed that was one way to tell that Irune still wasn’t used to stealing things. How on earth had she survived as an Outlaw before Lacan caught up to her anyways?

“Yeah, and we worked hard to nab it,” she said. “And it’s going to a good cause… namely to keep us out of trouble and get you closer to your treasure.”

Irune opened her mouth briefly to protest only to catch herself. Kate wasn’t sure whether or not the Axew really agreed with her, but it got the point across at least. Lyle was already starting to drift off, though Dalton seemed to be weirdly hesitant and on-edge as he kept stealing glances at his surroundings.

Was something wrong? She wouldn’t have pegged Scales to get confused by their surroundings with the way he’d taken them to this place through the Undercity, so what was going on?

“Gottverdammt, I didn’t realize we’d been getting this close to the northeast end of the market,” the Heliolisk said.

“Why? What’s wrong with the northeast end of the market?” Lyle asked.

As if on cue, Dalton raised a hand and motioned off down the street, where a few stalls could be seen with various dungeoneering items set out. Among the buildings in the background, Kate spotted a building made out of a gutted concrete structure with a tent shaped like a Baxcalibur’s head attached to a part which had partly collapsed. Between the wares being plied and the number of Pokémon going past in groups with coordinated scarves…

“Right, you mentioned earlier that there were Hunter’s Guilds in this city,” the Quilava said.

Kate supposed that would explain why that shop had so many Wonder Orbs just set out on display. It was a bit weird to be in a place where the local guild wasn’t the most prominent building in its surroundings, even moreso to see one styled after what she assumed was its guildmaster’s head. She always thought that was more of a thing in podunk towns, or else something that some more tacky merchants like the Colorswap Consortium would find more up their alley.

Except, that didn’t solve the issue of what they were supposed to do right now.

“So… what’s the plan then?” Kate asked. “Since it’s not as if we don’t need these items. It’s not that hard to nick things in front of a guild, is it?”

There was a moment of hesitation, before Lyle turned back from the edge of the alley and shook his head.

“We only need a few more Seeds and Berries to cover what we went through in Primordial Woods,” the Quilava began. “Let’s just get them, meet up at the end of the street, and then put some distance from this part of the marketplace. It’s late enough that we should probably be worrying more about trying to find a place to spend the night and figure out where we’re going to go from here, anyways.”

Lyle reflexively set off, only for Dalton to grab at him with his uninjured arm and look about uneasily. The Heliolisk studied his surroundings closely, before leaning in with a wary murmur.

“Actually… I think that Irune may have been onto something earlier, Lyle,” the lizard said. “We’ve pushed our luck enough in this marketplace for a while.”

Kate pinned her ears back as Lyle turned back to Dalton. Gods, this wasn’t a hard thing. They just had to get those last Berries and Seeds and then get to the end of the street. How hard could that be?

“Let’s focus on finding a place to stay the night for now. Ideally someplace off the street.”

Great, now Scales was getting cold feet on top of things. Maybe he just needed a bit of a shove to get him back on track.

“Hey, hurry up slowpokes! See you at the end of the street when you’re done!”

Kate darted out into the crowd and briefly turned back to wave at her teammates still in the alley. She saw their shocked expressions, before they vanished amidst the faces in the crowd. Seeds and Berries… Seeds and Berries. She briefly glimpsed a Pecha Berry lying on the counter of a stall kept by a Delibird distracted by talking with a Prinplup off on the side. She walked by and in a swift motion, snagged it off the counter and ducked back into the throng. She weaved around bodies and passing wagons, but didn’t even hear a cry coming from the Delibird’s stall. Guess that was one way to tell that nobody had noticed her.

“Heh. Easy peasy.”

The next few stalls that she hit up went by similarly easily. A Totter Seed, a Cheri Berry, a Heal Seed… There was a brief moment when she thought she heard wingbeats overhead, but the whole time, her marks had at most caught passing glimpses that were easy to shake. It was all well and good, except she kept getting things a little at a time. If only there were a place where she could get more than a single Seed or Berry in one go…

“Oi, Masch! Hurry it up with the stock out there! Don’t just leave that inventory sitting around, each of those boxes is worth more than your week’s pay!”

“Alright! Alright!”

Kate’s ears swiveled and she turned around towards a stall built into the front of a human ruin where just in time to catch a Machoke taking a crate off a stack and bringing it in through a side entrance.

Expensive gear available in bulk? Now that she could get behind.

She hurriedly darted along and scanned the surroundings, noticing a wooden door leading further into the shop. She hurriedly breathed an Icy Wind over the door’s edge to freeze it over. It almost certainly wouldn’t hold, especially against a Machoke of all ‘mons, but the noise would give her a sign of when it was time to go.

Kate hurriedly darted over to the crate and popped the lid of the topmost crate open, seeing that it was filled with Oran Berries inside. She blinked briefly, before her face fell.

“Tch, this is what that Machoke was getting yelled at over?” she scoffed. “Boy, his weekly wages must really suck.”

She quickly snatched one, then another. She put her paws in deeper to reach for a third, only to feel them tink against something glassy.

“Huh?”

She tightened her grip around the object and pulled it out, revealing it to be a glass flask capped with a cork and filled with bright red fluid. Quite thick from how slowly the air bubbles in it moved when she flipped it over.

“What in the-?”

The door opened with a sharp, icy crunch, as Kate grasped the flask in her claws and whirled around. Just in time for the Machoke to return from inside the shop.

“For crying out loud, who on earth delivers a batch of Drive during peak hou– Hey!“

Whelp, that ‘Drive’ answered the question of what the fluid was, and a sign to bounce. The Machoke’s expression changed the moment his head poked out past the doorway, as he wound up an arm for a punch with a sharp snarl.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Kate answered the Machoke by blowing an Icy Wind in the Fighting-type’s face, dashing the bottle against the ground by his feet. There was a snarling “get back here” and then a pained yelp, probably a sign that the Machoke hadn’t been watching where he was going.

She ducked back out into traffic, springing up and vaulting over the back of a passing Stantler puller much to the ‘mon’s alarm, dutifully ignoring the Normal-type’s cries as she ran to the end. There was an alley off on the left side where she could see the glow of fire coming from it. That must’ve been their meeting place.

Kate stumbled into the alley and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. Götterblut, that was way too close for comfort. Maybe Scales had been onto something about them pushing their luck.

“What the hell happened to you?”

Kate’s ears perked up at Lyle’s voice. She turned, where further down the alley, she saw him looking up with Irune at his side. The pair seemed visibly worried, as Dalton hurriedly pulled her over to their hiding place.

Kate stumbled forward, her heart still pounding from her earlier close call. She hoped it wouldn’t take long to help Irune find out about her powers of hers, since they couldn’t put this craphole behind them soon enough. Kate wasn’t a stranger to mounting daring raids, but those always had safe places to slip away to once the deed was done, not more streets with prowling guards on them.

“Kate, did anyone follow you here?”

Kate looked up at Dalton as he looked visibly on edge. She looked back at the alleyway and saw nothing but passing traffic, before turning back with a puzzled tilt of her head.

“I mean, if someone did, you’d think they’d have caught up by now-“

A slicing gust of wind suddenly sailed in from further down the alley and caught Kate in her stomach. She fell back, and heard Lyle yelp after something loudly smacked against him, along with Irune and Dalton raising their voices in alarm.

“A-Ack!”

Kate stumbled up as Irune’s voice reached her ears. She watched Lyle right himself by a bin filled with trash, only to freeze and flare up with a grimace. She followed his gaze deeper down the alley and stiffened up when she saw it herself:

A lanky lizard that had blackish scales with a violet tinge. It had a bony head with a vaguely star-shaped marking between its eyes and grasped a bone that looked longer than it was tall. Was that a Marowak? Kate blinked for a moment since a bunch of little things seemed off compared to Alvin, but no, this ‘mon was clearly some sort of Marowak.

And she was looking at them much like how Wilder predators were said to look at their cornered prey.

“Well well well, what do we have here, Ansel?”

Wingbeats rang out from above as a tawny blur dropped down from the surrounding rooftops. Brown feathers, a tall red head crest, and a long, thin beak that looked like it’d give one hell of a jab… that was a Fearow, alright. He and the strange Marowak didn’t have any armor plates, but from the overpowering glare in their eyes, one could’ve been forgiven for thinking they were somehow connected to them. Kate reflexively readied an Ice Shard, only to freeze after she noticed a peach-colored orb in the Fearow’s talons—a Slumber Orb, surely already prepared for use.

“You tell me, Igna,” the bird replied. “Since all I see are a bunch of stupid mudders who think that they can just swoop into this town and poke their sticky paws wherever they please.”

Kate looked on at their assailants, and flattened her ears with a low hiss.

Gods, she really hated this dump.