Novelux Copperridge Wharf

[Chibi Pika]

Phillip shrugged. "Bet they were just upset the new fave was gone so soon."

"Couldn't put money on her in the seasonal cup, more like," Jam added with an eye roll.

Jade somehow doubted that interrogating random battling fans in a bar somewhere was likely to come up with anything good. She shuffled a paw on the ground and said, "I guess we could try asking around at the Dome itself... assuming there's nothing else we can get from the train incident?" She threw an inquisitive glance toward Buck.

 

[Jackie Cat]

Buck looked like a 'mon who'd been holding a modest weight at arm's length for too long. He sighed, and thumped the side of the locomotive with a powerful ear.

"One other thing, I guess. But you take this information and you don't come back here again, alright?"

Laura read the rabbit's eyes, and decided he was completely serious, and about three seconds from changing his mind. She nodded, and braced her notebook. "You got it."

The Diggersby grunted unhappily. "Alright. So, back when head office got all antsy about the bashed up car, there was some kinda inspection or visit or whathaveyou. I don't know if the guy was a lawyer, or a spook, or what, but it was around when he turned up that the bosses put the kibosh on everything."

Laura raised a brow. "And what can you tell us about this 'spook'...?"

"Greninja, male, early twenties at most, could even have been a teenager." After a moment, Buck gave a phlegmy cough, and shrugged. "Strong aura, too, if you ask me."

Nidoqueen Whistler snapped her digits. "That guy! Yeah, he just kinda walked past the security 'mon, didn't he? Like they weren't even there. That's not a lawyer thing, that's weird. Spooky."

Buck nodded, and decisively tapped the engine again, twice.

"Alright, that's enough of a break for you workshy indolents! Get about it." He eyed the party of Wayfarers, and clicked his tongue. "Good luck to you lot, I guess. But I meant what I said – I can't help you any more than this. I got 'mon depending on me to keep things regular around here. We don't need anything that'd make life any more complicated than it is, you understand?"

Laura nodded, and pocketed her notes.

"Guess we'd better go," she said to her companions, quietly.

 

[Phoenixsong]

A spooky greninja guy, not even bothering with security... huh. Leaf wanted to know if they'd overheard what he'd talked to their bosses about, but it didn't look like that was on the table. Welcome thoroughly worn out, then.

"I got 'mon depending on me to keep things regular around here. We don't need anything that'd make life any more complicated than it is, you understand?"

"Nothing complicated happened, far as you told us," Leaf said casually, tossing her head to the side in a shrug. "Bad parts, an unfortunate accident, but everyone made it out okay. Thanks for making that extra clear." Hopefully he wouldn't miss the ever-so-slight emphasis on "thanks".

Well. That'd been... something. But they'd got there in the end, and that was what mattered. Nothing else for it but to leave the crew to their work, regroup, and then figure out where this dome was—see if they could pick up the trail of this "Blue Mesa".

 

[Butterfree]

The Diggersby grunted unhappily. "Alright. So, back when head office got all antsy about the bashed up car, there was some kinda inspection or visit or whathaveyou. I don't know if the guy was a lawyer, or a spook, or what, but it was around when he turned up that the bosses put the kibosh on everything."

Dave opened his mouth, about to ask if this inspection lawyer type was a fucking Inteleon in a top hat by any chance, but then... no? A Greninja?

Greninja. Hadn't Gladion mentioned something about the Vanguard warning them about a Greninja who was part of the Coven? Who Nolan had then acidly denied any association with. That Greninja? Who apparently also did 'inspections'? What, did they have some kind of professional rivalry or whatever? Two asshole racists with dramatic differences of opinion about tax audits?

"Huh. Interesting." He nodded to Buck and the others. "Thanks for your help."

It sounded like they didn't have too much in the way of leads on where Brisa herself might be, but the Dome was at least something. Maybe.

It was hard not to suspect the trail might already be cold, though.

<><><><><>​

 

[Shiny Phantump]

This was where Teardrop Isle was, right? He could see the shroud of fog, and all the details seemed to line up. It made practical sense, too, given the location would be pretty practical. It’d be pretty convenient if it was, given he had some questions about how the coven was running security detail against the coven.

He found a spot tucked away by an empty lot to try to get Articuno’s attention. It was unlikely that they’d be happy if he became water type and swam over, plus it’d take a long time. If he could figure out what psychic type “felt like” he could probably reach out to them that way. (Inquisitive? Prying? The feeling of the laptop monitor on his face at 1am, poring over “F”s blog because he knew Faba couldn’t keep his mouth shut about any of Aether’s projects and he had to know what was going on there.)

The RKS system sparked, submitting to his volition. Usually, he checked to make sure his chromatophores where the colour he’d expected, but this time the sensation of endless minds buzzing in the city was confirmation enough.

He reached out towards the island with his mind. He couldn’t feel anyone out there, but he had a hunch that maybe someone would be able to feel him. “Yodel-eh-hee-hoo. Any birds around here? I’d like to bug you at some point, once you’ve got a minute.”

 

[Jackie Cat]

At first there was just the sound of waves crashing against black sand and concrete jetties, and the cry of gulls. The waterbirds did not answer Gladion's call. A faint salt-smell carried on the wind.

Then Gladion's skin chilled as the air temperature dropped a few degrees.

"Hello, Gladion," came Articuno's telepathic voice, in crystal clarity. "This is an unexpected pleasure, but I can make time for you. Is there something you'd like to discuss?"

 

[Shiny Phantump]

That was a warmer welcome than he expected, honestly.

“Yeah. I do.”

If he wanted good information, he shouldn’t be confrontational. It… felt like a security hole to have people from the organization who they were supposed to be keeping out also working in the guard duty. But saying that wouldn’t get him anywhere, and Articuno would just rightfully point out that Sam didn’t seem likely to publicly attack anyone in Novelux.

“About that Exposition. They’re worried about the Covenant trying to steal one of the devices, asking for Wayfarer security. And also security from the Covenant. Which, I mean…”

He shifted uncomfortably for a moment before settling on what to continue saying.

“So, say something does happen, ‘cause we’re involved and the lot of us have absol’s luck. There gonna be Coven on Coven-ant fighting? Is that… abnormal for you?”

He caught himself, too late to correct the first ‘Coven’ but in time for the second. That was a name he’d picked up from the Vanguard, so he’d been avoiding using it in front of them. Maybe he could sell it as seeing Articuno’s faction as the real Covenant, if he had to.

 

[Jackie Cat]

The reply came back before long, clear and cool.

"It is abnormal, but not un-anticipated. If what Sparkwright suspects is true, then the faction undertaking the scheme are acting outside of the usual channels. Whatever they intend, they would be unwise to expect me to stay out of it. I will not turn a blind eye to it, I assure you. I trust that Teardrop agents, together with Wayfarers, shall foil this mission competently, and – good fortune permitting – we may learn something about them in the process."

The ambient temperature continued to fall. Gladion's breath billowed out in plumes of white.

"You've spoken to Vanguard agents, then. Not recently, I take it?"

Not accusatory. Observational. Still, the cold...

 

[Shiny Phantump]

Oh. Shit. This was bad. A chill ran down his his spine, and it was only partially because of the temperature drop. Damage control. He had to do damage control now. He doubted he could lie to Articuno, but the truth wasn't really that incriminating in and of itself... As long as it excluded his personal feelings on the matter.

"Right, yes. It was the first time we'd made headlines they came to, if I recall correctly, 'assess the scope of the problem.' I'm sure I don't have to get you up to speed on why they weren't thrilled to have received news of a large group of humans. And the group they met was all humans, save one person you haven't met who hadn't encountered any humans before, and finally Isidora, so when they started asking what the humans of the group were like..." He winced earnestly and easily at the memory of how that had gone. "We've made better first impressions in our time here."

Having Isidora in the group and letting her speak hadn't actually made as terrible an impression as it could have. Articuno would realize that, obviously. But as long as they thought it was their own brilliant inference and not something Valere said to everyone's faces, he'd probably be fine.

"We're not on openly hostile terms with them, somehow, after that. Mostly because we hadn't made contact with you at the time, which bought us some grace. But we aren't on speaking terms either. They left us neutrally with a warning that, well... I'm talking to right you, and I haven't been brainwashed yet, so as much as they're earnest I'm not sure their perceptions are super accurate. Haven't seen or heard of them since."

Sure, he'd been second only to Isidora herself, whatever her damage was, in thinking ignoring the Vanguard's warning was a shit fucking plan, but Articuno did not need to know that.

 

[Jackie Cat]

There was the faintest, reverberating psionic sensation in Gladion's mind. It could take him a minute to realise Articuno might be suppressing actual laughter.

"I suspect that one or more of your parents or guardians had you under withering scrutiny," mused the saint. "You are fluent in spin – I doubt you are even lying to me in this moment. You could be a politician, with a tongue like yours."

The tone was almost fond. The 'politician' quip calibrated to tease. Maybe there was no need to panic? Or it was far too late for that.

"I already know you're not working closely with the Vanguard," continued Articuno, perfectly phlegmatic. "I suspect you sympathise more readily with them than the Covenant, from what you already know. You personally, that is, Gladion."

Another lakeshore breeze, shiver-inducing in its chill.

"May I join you where you are? I have not visited the blacksands in some time."

 

[Shiny Phantump]

Articuno's quip sunk into Gladion's heart like a dagger. He didn't object, though. How could he? He probably would've been moulded into a perfectly fine politician if he'd been willing to. Talking to friends, having friends even, proved hard to do without seeing it as transactional.

"Sure, c'mon over." His voice was cold as the breeze, stiff with indifference. He didn't really want to have this conversation at all, but also felt he had to. He couldn't accept stopping there, even if it'd be easy to flick to Dark type (probably wouldn't even need to recall a new different, unless this one was Poison) and skulk off into the wharf. Instead, he waited a moment for Articuno to appear. He needed to defend, to rationalize himself.

"Thought you already saw, during the fight." (Technically, Lusamine had held him under withering scrutiny. It just wasn't why he'd learned to talk the way he did.) "That she did this to me on purpose." (His tone communicated more clearly than words that this was a form of damage.) "Wanted a proper 21st century aristocrat. That was my role."

That was his move. Advancing a pawn, because later it would make clear why he begrudged how Nolan had explained the role of humans here. Now it was Articuno's turn, to either pick up on or ignore the play. (Maybe it wasn't so bad, talking to someone who knew what he was.)

 

[Jackie Cat]

"My thanks. One moment, please."

A moment later, pale rime crept over the concrete of a rock-and-rubble jetty, and the Winter Arbiter stepped into the air above it, to perch there and gaze around at the Noveluxian shoreline. Their eye caught Gladion, and they nodded politely.

"By '21st century aristocrat', I infer that formal aristocracy is a thing of the past in your civilisation," they mused. "No doubt your family is wealthy by capitalist or other means. Already, across the Luctemarene Commonwealth, there emerges a class of nouveau-riche bourgeoise – but I foresee that given a scant several generations, their descendants will be no different in practice to hereditary nobility. Those who hold wealth will invest it in their legacy – that is, their descendants. It has always been thus."

Articuno spoke in a thoughtful tone, neither interrogating nor lecturing. They'd laid out a brief perspective on economic class, suggested a context to Gladion's remark about his family, and shown a predeliction for thinking about a long view of history. How old were they, anyway?

"Do you know why aristocratic social classes form in so many civilisations?" asked the legendary bird.

It was a rhetorical question. They looked out at the high-rise apartments and office buildings of downtown Novelux.

"Continuity. Whether we mean the knights of Arcadelle, or the samurai of Tsainan, landed warriors and their liege-lords promise stability. Military protection, a clear mantle of responsibility... and a consolidation of power. Of course, such institutions and their monopoly on the use of force are invariably associated with social and economic inequality, cultural conservatism, and a lack of accountability to those they govern."

Articuno inclined their head again towards Gladion.

"Not to mention, the inevitable eventuality of heirs who are either incompetent, corrupt... or simply unwilling to be complicit."

 

[Shiny Phantump]

Stars, that was a lot. Worse, he found himself nodding along agreeably. It felt, for a moment, like talking to Plumeria. The same ability to make a criticism and have it reflected back at him by someone willing and experienced enough to expose the machinery beneath his pain. Except that he trusted Plumeria, trusted her perspective.

He couldn't afford to trust Articuno.

Focus. There was a point being advanced here. He... couldn't see it. In spite of Articuno's flattery he'd been as much straight-up bad at dealing with people as he was unwilling to be complicit. People who could easily read good intent didn't spend years trying to trust as few people as possible. Part of him wanted to let them lower his guard, give up on his short-lived resolve to just approach the conversation instrumentally and speak in earnest, but he wasn't exactly much better at that either.

He spoke with no certainty of where he was even going with it.

"Continuity of their own existence. Organizations appear all the time for all kinds of reasons. Allocate their resources in all kinds of different ways. Then they disappear, usually. But the longest-lived ones all converge on the same strategy. They have to spend resources to perpetuate themselves, their power, their access to more resources. They don't have to offer anything to anyone unless it's useful to them. Protection, responsibility, those are just kayfabe to wear when it's convenient."

This wasn't really about some comparison between Aether and the Coven, at least not anymore. Articuno had expanded the scope of the conversation beyond that. It felt petty in comparison.

"The ocean can acidify, forests burn, people suffer. All of these things are acceptable as long as the wheels continue to churn. Institutions become too big to fail, too good at self-perpetuation to dismantle."

Gladion found his point.

"But this world isn't there, not yet. As long as the people who belong in this world aren't shoved down the same path humans chose for ourselves, maybe they won't fuck it up like we did. Maybe they don't stick the landing. I'm sure they won't, at least not entirely. But they should get to try, 'cause in the end humanity's not hard to beat."

 

[Jackie Cat]

Articuno's beak parted for a soft chuckle at the word kayfabe. Remarkably, it clearly translated to a close match in Luctemarene. Their non-telepathic voice sounded tired, old, or both...

"True believers in institutional responsibility do exist, though they may be a rarity. So too do instances of good works, though they may rarely come at the expense of the institution. Even charity is transactional – the purchase of public goodwill. Noble rhetoric, even when sincere, all too often becomes one more tool of propaganda, to manufacture consent. 'Kayfabe', as you put it... My cynical heart agrees, though I wish it were not so."

The bird blinked thoughtfully, glancing out towards the mist that lay across Lake Cobalt.

"...She would say nothing is ever too big to fail, or to alter," they murmured, perhaps to themself. "All empires die. All stone turns to sand..."

Who was 'she'? A peer? Maybe... another legendary bird? But Articuno looked at Gladion again, and went on.

"Institutions and societal realities differ often in the particulars, but rarely in principle. Pokémon will self-organise and strive and err as humans do, without any compulsion. Resources will always be consumed because there will always be those who consume them – no matter the external costs of doing so."

The bird's eyes narrowed as they reached their conclusion.

"The problem is not a human one. It is a mortal one."

 

[Shiny Phantump]

“Yeah, I know…” Gladion continues, but without much fight left in him. “But, culturally, I still think they should be able to do better here than the neoliberal capitalism schtick I’m used to.” His voice cracked a little at the end, tinged with just a hint of pleading.

The plea wasn’t directed to Articuno, though, but more generally a hope that all these different worlds weren’t doomed to repeat the same mistakes as each other over and over and over.

Without any argumentative spirit and with the vague hunch Articuno would make him feel more childish if they continued, Gladion decided he wanted to talk about something else.

“…Was I not supposed to hear that bit about sand?”

The subject change seemed to bring back a bit of life to voice. A bit of cheekiness, like he was poking somewhere he didn’t belong.

“I don’t know who She is. Your mentor? Heh, it’s hard for me to picture that, but I guess you weren’t always Articuno.” It was a shot in the dark, but he knew other groups of Wayfarer had learned about the continental species of Zapdos and Moltres, and that definitely sounded like a saint-lifespans’s view of things, so it didn’t feel like too much of a stretch.

 

[Jackie Cat]

"Mm? Ah..."

Articuno still cleared their throat, despite their reliance on telepathy.

"My mentor, yes. She was Articuno-of-ice, and it was she who chose me to succeed the previous Articuno-of-mind. The Winter Arbiter, he was called. That is now my title, not that I ever use it. I have yet to find an adequate candidate for her successor."

The Saint stiffened slightly as they said this, then shook their head, seeming to relax.

"My mentor had a perhaps even-longer view of history than I do. She was especially venerable even by the standards of the middle-echelon divine, and – somehow – managed to find peace with the ending of all things. I should be fortunate to ever achieve her stillness and composure."

So, that must be why Articuno had such affinity for ice and chill, then? They had a pretty intense preoccupation with their Ice-type mentor...

For a moment, the bird dropped their previous line of conversation as their eyes closed in remembrance.

 

[Shiny Phantump]

Gladion gave Articuno a moment before breaking the silence.

"Tough act to follow, huh? For a successor, I mean, if you can't find one. Not that it necessarily was easy for you, either. I wouldn't really know, never really stuck with any of that 'responsibility' stuff." Really, that wasn't entirely true. He had rescued Hazel. Taken care of her for years. "Mostly, anyways."

He'd skipped on being a successor to anything. Which, yeah, Aether was fucked up but he was fourteen and it wasn't really a contentious moral objection on his part... At least not before his plan to steal Hazel had formed. It wasn't until he met Plumeria that he realized how much was wrong with Aether, at the time he'd just figured he'd been solving the problem of which twin would take up the mantle. (Lillie'd always been the favourite in the first place.)

"How do you even find someone like that?" After all, Articuno had to actually find someone. Not just have someone. "Or, I suppose you've done it if you knew."

 

[Jackie Cat]

Articuno chuckled mildly, their amusement echoing softly in their telepathy.

"I am always seeking her successor, I suppose. I've come close, before, but even a promising candidate can prove disappointing... I need someone uniquely suitable. Someone with the brightest of intellects, exceptional volition... and more wisdom than I had when I was mortal."

Articuno rarely seemed prideful, as such, but that was a still-rarer trace of outright humility... Their memory of their mentor was a specific, ensouling aspect of their personality. One that could be appealed to, perhaps... Something to keep in mind for later.

The bird's beak curved upwards in a tight, ironic smile.

"In fact, I am assessing each Wayfarer as I encounter them. Even you, Master Gladion."

They let him stew for a moment before continuing.

"Do not worry. I have no intention of mentoring one so young as you. It is pleasantly diverting to discourse with you, however – while many youths hold anti-authoritarian inclinations, few have anything interesting to say on the subject. Perhaps that is a more common trait in your world, where the externalities of unfettered capital – this 'neoliberalism' you decry – have done such great harm to the natural environment. I hope that this never comes to pass on Forlas – I strive against it, at any cost."

There was a renewed coldness in Articuno's expression, now. This was someone who meant those final words.

 

[Shiny Phantump]

Gladion had to remind himself for the second time dealing with Articuno that Wicke didn’t have a monopoly on calling him Master Gladion. Still felt strange, an old familiarity rendered alien to him by context.

“Maybe it’s more common, but I’ve also had some good mentors. Thanks… for keeping an eye on that.” Given he was only going to be here for however long it took to finish their mission, it was nice to pass that onto someone who might live long enough to find a successor. He opted not to say that, though. Articuno would only need to know that if they were genuinely going to choose a Wayfarer, and he had a hunch they weren’t going to be satisfied with any of them.

“Best of luck finding someone at some point, however long it take.”

Though he doubted they’d find anyone for a very long time. Part of him felt he should trust in the bird’s life expectancy and patience. But another part of him did wonder what it’d be like if there really wasn’t anyone who could live up to their mentor’s legacy. After all, hadn’t at least one of the other galarian bird saints come from relics? (That was someone else’s problem, at least. Articuno probably knew their own biases there, wouldn’t let it come to that.)

He took a moment to relax in the afterglow of what had honestly been a successful conversation in spite of a mistake could’ve easily been an unmitigated disaster had Articuno been a different sort of person. Then he stood up.

“Say hi to Sam for me, think I’m gonna be on a different part of the building than her. And, uh… Nice to talk to you, too.”

Contrary to even his wildest expectations for this conversation… he wasn’t lying.

<><><><><>​

 

[Panoramic_Vacuum]

When Steven left the museum, he had no destination in mind. All he knew was that he didn't want to be there amongst the proof of his fate, amongst the reminders of home. But he didn't want to be anywhere else, either. Instead, he wandered the streets of Novalux without rhyme or reason, drifting whichever way the crowds offered the least resistance.

He wasn't sure how long he wandered aimlessly; time was lost in the haze of his tumbling emotions. The only thing that jolted him back to the present was bumping headlong into a metal guardrail, the last thing that stood between him and the edge of the waterfront where he'd drifted. Startled, he looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but the hustle and bustle of the port carried on around him as if he weren't even there.

How he'd even gotten all the way down to the water's edge at the industrial port was beyond him. Even though the sights and sounds were muffled, cottony and distant through the numbness, there were still too many people, too many eyes.

Good job, Stone. Can't even get lost properly. Not that the lack of any decent caves in the city helped matters...
Hugging the guardrail, he drifted away from the hub of activity, sliding further down the coastline until he found an empty wharf. Well, not entirely empty. The husk of a dilapidated ship sat in drydock, awaiting repairs that looked like they'd been deferred to more deserving craft on more than one occasion.

Here he stopped, fixated on the ship and the expanse of water beyond it. Lilycove. Slateport. Rustboro. Why oh why did he end up in a port of all places? There was no escaping the memories of a home he wouldn't return to.

Suddenly, he sagged forward, both claws grasping onto the metal of the top guardrail, his head coming to rest on the middle rail. It was too much. His grip tightened until the metal squealed, twisting beneath his claws. Too much. He was unable to stop the wailing cry that slipped out, foreign to his ears yet hauntingly familiar. Too much.

His eyes dimmed low as he retreated into the depths of his mind, clinging to the guardrail like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.