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Frontier Town Mayoral Residence – Upper Floors

The door opened, held by an anxious-looking Watchog, who winced a little when he saw who was knocking.

"Ah, you..." he said, before trailing off. "Lucien is expecting you. I'll escort you upstairs."

"Thank you," said Laura, from the shadows of the 'Graydian' pair. "Please lead the way." When had she arrived?

As they walked to Lucien's study, Laura quietly greeted the other three offworlders. She sounded rather more tense than when they'd each seen her earlier during the day.

"Hey you three. Didn't expect to see all of you twice today. Guessing we're all insomniacs, huh?"

"Master Lucien, too," muttered Watchog.

"Uh, what?"

"What?"

Watchog didn't sound like he wished to elaborate.



The study was furnished much the same as the rest of the middle floor. It still felt strange to walk on carpet anywhere in Frontier Town, but the floor was plush carpet from wall to wall.

Lucien sat at his desk staring at a finely-penned letter that still somehow managed to look a mess, with strikethroughs and amendments throughout. He took a moment to notice the party's arrival. Watchog cleared his throat, mumbled something, and abruptly left.

"Good, ah... Good evening, you four," said Lucien, quietly. "Thank you for coming."
 
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Another type: null had joined their little entourage, which was a mild surprise, and the mansion door was opened soon thereafter by a butler, which was less of a surprise. The biggest surprise, though, was Laura materializing out of the shadows like she'd been there the whole time. Steven offered her a tired eye-smile at her joke as he followed her and the two nulls inside.

When they arrived in Lucien's study, it was clear everyone present was feeling the effects of little sleep.

"Good evening." Steven's tone took on a compassionate lilt as he dipped his head in greeting. "Perhaps the answer is obvious, but it'd feel better to hear it from you. How are you faring since we've seen you last?"
 
"Hey you three. Didn't expect to see all of you twice today. Guessing we're all insomniacs, huh?"
Gladion hadn't noticed Laura at all. Had she been there before, or not?

"You startled me!" Gladion brushed it off with a quick halfhearted laugh. "But it's good to have you here. That being said, it did sound like you just claimed this is your second time meeting all three of us today, miss spiritually sleeping eighteen hours a day. Must've just misheard you, though."

"Good, ah... Good evening, you four," said Lucien, quietly. "Thank you for coming."
"You're welcome. Thanks for making time for us, looks like you've got plenty else keeping you busy."
 
"There was chaos at the gala," Nova said. "Got your note. Figured I'd just check on you."

He paused, then deadpanned, "And I brought my entourage."
 
Laura eyed Lucien with caution. She was half-expecting him to announce that he was giving the whole team 24 hours to get lost, or that he would prosecute her for something that displeased him about her Gazette article, or that something terrible was about to happen, or that he knew about the wagon plan and was furious about it... Just anxiety, just catastrophising, he seemed like reasonable kind of guy. Like a decent person.

"I find myself faced with the unexpected responsibility of cleaning up my father's mess," said Lucien. "And I have come to the realisation that your arrival here is not some peculiarity I can pay minimal heed to. It has been scarcely a week since you fell from the aether, and already you have upended the status quo in this town."

He smiled, very slightly, although it seemed a pained one.

"That is, to be clear, a good thing. At least, it is hard to believe that any disorder and upheaval is worse than his continued stewardship."

He glanced again at his scribblings, sighed, and pushed them aside.

"I don't know how to broach this subject intelligently," he said, warily, "so I will broach it with conscious naivety. Do you know what crisis is coming for my world, that would merit the appearance of not one, or even a few, but dozens of humans and other offworlders?"

A perceptive listener might have heard his voice crack ever so slightly. He seemed younger, here. Like he was too small for the desk in front of him.

"If you know for certain, I should not be wilfully blind to the truth," he added. "I want to know everything."
 
"If we truly had the answer, that gala wouldn't have been such a slapdash affair." Though, even knowing, Nova figured how frail their current bodies were would still lead to some degree of slapdashery. He tapped a talon on the floor. "Best I can do is guesstimate that we've got an onion on our hands." He pantomimed a gentle cutting motion with the same talon he'd been tapping. "The kind of problem where we'll find more layers the deeper we cut into it."

The null shrugged. "So-called 'human supremacy' is one such layer." He paused. "Probably."
 
“Agreed.” Gladion took a deep breath. “Ignatius planted spikes beneath his own feet inviting us to secure something that he should’ve been secured from us. But it hasn’t stopped us getting theories. Other humans are a known issue, and it would explain why a more than one is needed in turn. We aren-” Wait, shit! He almost stumbled his way into a disastrous sentence. “-n’t sure, and it just calls into question how they got here in turn. Humans aren’t inherently heroic, it’s just something selected for at summoning… at least for those in our group.”

He took a deep breath. Had he salvaged that sentence convincingly enough?

…He wasn’t sure why he still felt the need to be so protective of his own humanity still anyways. But just he couldn’t bring himself to be open about it.

“…If I may, I think… That name, Voclain, it… Do you happen to know where it originates from?”
 
Steven couldn't hide his wince at Lucien's weary admission. As much as he knew what a mountain of responsibility felt like, he'd be a fool to say he truly could empathize with the young Marshal's situation. Corruption, shady dealings, blackmail; his own tribulations couldn't hold a candle to what Lucien was facing. Not only that, but Lucien was facing it alone.

"It was never our intent to dump all of this into your lap. I don't think it was even our intent to come here to your town, specifically."

"But to answer your question directly: we don't. What I said to you yesterday, and what Laura wrote for the Gazette," he gestured to her with his claw, "it's the truth. All we know is that the call for help that we answered came from a hero in this world. There's a voice that communicates with us, the one who brought us here and gave us these bodies, they told us this. That, and they are somewhere far from us... I think we need to find them to get to the bottom of why we're here."

He glanced down, as if remembering something. "It just so happened that in our quest to look for those that needed help, we found, well... you."

Steven shook his head, then fixed Lucien with an earnest stare. "I'm glad an injustice was righted, however haphazardly. I don't know if we're destined to stay here, but as long as we are here, please let us know what we can do to help clean up some of the mess we've made."
 
"[...] Best I can do is guesstimate that we've got an onion on our hands. The kind of problem where we'll find more layers the deeper we cut into it. So-called 'human supremacy' is one such layer. Probably."
“[...] We aren’t sure, and it just calls into question how they got here in turn. Humans aren’t inherently heroic, it’s just something selected for at summoning… at least for those in our group. [...] That name, Voclain, it… Do you happen to know where it originates from?”
"[...] What I said to you yesterday, and what Laura wrote for the Gazette, it's the truth. All we know is that the call for help that we answered came from a hero in this world. There's a voice that communicates with us, the one who brought us here and gave us these bodies, they told us this. That, and they are somewhere far from us... I think we need to find them to get to the bottom of why we're here. [...] I'm glad an injustice was righted, however haphazardly. I don't know if we're destined to stay here, but as long as we are here, please let us know what we can do to help clean up some of the mess we've made."

Lucien considered all that the three 'mon had to say. Once or twice he made a shorthand note, or looked like he was about to say something. He looked to Laura, as if expecting her to add to what had been said. She shrugged.

"That's about it. Anything else would be conjecture."

He nodded solemnly. "I see. Well, thank you for confiding this much in me. Despite my reservations, I choose to..." He took a breath. "I shall put my trust in you, ones summoned from other worlds. There is only so much I can do for you under the present circumstances, but please know that I do not suspect you of ill intent, and that you are welcome in this town."

He blinked, and glanced down, arranging his thoughts. Then back up to Gladion.

"You asked the origin of my family name. I can tell you that if records are to be believed, it originates nowhere on Luctemar. My great great grandfather, Guillaume Voclain, was the first documented by that name. Perhaps this will sound familiar to you – he had no known blood relatives, near-total retrograde amnesia, and was uncommonly adept in martial combat."
 
Nova could do the math. He let out a thoughtful hum, unsure of what a good response would be. If Gene were here, he'd drop a "That's rough, buddy," and call it a day. The null figured he needed marginally more tact.

"It's familiar. And I can't begin to imagine how conflicted it's left you with all of this." He paused. "Was your, err, family history something your father clung tightly to? To the point of, say, constantly bringing it up?"
 
Gladion suddenly felt a lot more strongly about his suspicions.

"I see what you mean..."

The idea of amnesia was new to him, but the other left no uncertainty as to what Lucius was insinuating. And he had just the funniest hunch This Guillaume person hadn't ended up in the Empoleon line because they felt a strong connection to the local penguin population for reasons including but not limited to the fact one didn't exist. An aristocrat, then. Because of course it was. Nothing here would ever let Gladion escape shadows of his past, clearly, no matter how he'd hoped otherwise.

"Almost as familiar as the name. Don't get me wrong, I don't know a Guillame Voclain in particular, but both those names are Kalosien. A human population. Known all around the world I hail from for having been one of the world's last monarchies. The nobility of that time's held onto power into my day, bloodlines who thought they were superior to the rest, passing that legacy down parent to child. Guess one of them managed to infest this place, too. I'd say I dread to imagine what the storied powers human have here would do to the head of an aristocrat, but I guess I don't have to imagine it..."

He made a point of audibly taking a deep breath. "My sympathies you had to find out you're partially Kalosien this way, a terrible thing really. And honestly, I'm glad you're willing to break that cycle. Working yourself to the bone to do it."

Would this have been what became of me, if I'd been able to stick around?
 
Lucien eyed Gladion with a somewhat perplexed expression. He seemed to need a moment to consider this.

"Kalosien," he said, quietly. "I suppose it makes sense that humans have nationalities of their own, but I never considered that I may have distant, ah, foreign heritage. I always imagined humans to somehow be... Well, I don't know that I ever did imagine humans outside of the context of their existence on Forlas. 'Kalosien'. Hm."

He shook his head a little, and gave a strange little laugh.

"I believe I shall continue to think of myself as Luctemarene. But I suppose it does not surprise me that my family's historical sire were noble in his own world."

"Was your, err, family history something your father clung tightly to? To the point of, say, constantly bringing it up?"
"So-called 'human supremacy' is one such layer." He paused. "Probably."
Other humans are a known issue,

Lucien put a wing-tip to his chin, and sighed. "Guillaume's legacy was a great concern of my father. He told me... certain things about what it means to be a human in this world. That we are meant to be pioneers of civilisation, leaders, the strongest of mind, will, and spirit. I personally never put all that much stock in it, given that I myself have shown barely greater than average aptitude for battle, and to tell you the truth, I never had much stomach for it. Not since..."

He smiled to himself, as if remembering a fond memory.

"Well. Anyway. There's only so much I can tell you about 'human supremacy'. I've met very few other human pokémon, or even part-humans, in my life. Well. Excepting your good selves, of course."

"It was never our intent to dump all of this into your lap. I don't think it was even our intent to come here to your town, specifically."

"But to answer your question directly: we don't. What I said to you yesterday, and what Laura wrote for the Gazette," he gestured to her with his claw, "it's the truth. All we know is that the call for help that we answered came from a hero in this world. There's a voice that communicates with us, the one who brought us here and gave us these bodies, they told us this. That, and they are somewhere far from us... I think we need to find them to get to the bottom of why we're here."

He glanced down, as if remembering something. "It just so happened that in our quest to look for those that needed help, we found, well... you."

Steven shook his head, then fixed Lucien with an earnest stare. "I'm glad an injustice was righted, however haphazardly. I don't know if we're destined to stay here, but as long as we are here, please let us know what we can do to help clean up some of the mess we've made."

Something seemed to give way in the young Prinplup, and he looked back to Steven.

"You really do seem like... good people. I flatter myself that I'm a decent judge of character, and I find myself continually... won over, by your earnest desires to do good, and to help people. My father's conception of the greater good always seemed to me to be... challenging to differentiate from self-interest."

He smiled at Steven, and there was a sort of pained vulnerability in his face for a moment, before the emotional mask came back.

"I am, ahem. Glad that you are here, in truth. As difficult as things are now, it is... hard to say my soul is not the lighter for it. It may be that you can do a great deal to improve this world. ...My father's ostensible aims in earnest, and not mere pretence."
 
Nova sat down as Lucien responded. He noted the prinplup's tone. His general world choice and body language, too. They all led Nova to one specific guess: restraint. It was like that at the Saloon. And even with his father behind bars, there was still that level of restraint. It made Nova wonder just what his upbringing was like.

His only response was a slight tilt of his head.
 
"I suppose it makes sense that humans have nationalities of their own, but I never considered that I may have distant, ah, foreign heritage. I always imagined humans to somehow be... Well, I don't know that I ever did imagine humans outside of the context of their existence on Forlas. 'Kalosien'. Hm."

He shook his head a little, and gave a strange little laugh.

"I believe I shall continue to think of myself as Luctemarene. But I suppose it does not surprise me that my family's historical sire were noble in his own world."
Gladion returned the strange little laugh, a familiar pattern for him to fall into as well.

"Makes sense. At this point it’s probably, what, three percent? Nor did you have anything to do with the culture. If it weren’t so distinct an origin you might not even have known."

Even the pretence of mild levity drained from Gladion’s voice as Lucien continued.

“We-” Shit, again with the ‘we’

Gladion pivoted to a new sentence entirely. “We can be pretty sure Ignatius has in-road to them among his contacts. I can’t write it off as a coincidence that he’s so closely ideologically aligned with them. At the same time, I don’t imagine he’s going to tell us too much.”

He considered pivoting back to his original sentence, but decided against shittalking humans too much. They were also a party full of humans, after all.
 
Steven listened as Lucien spoke, content to let him say his piece. But as he finished, Steven piped up, unwilling to have that be the prinplup's conclusion.

"It's not just us that can do good in this world," he said pointedly. "You now have the freedom to act on your own ideals. Without your father's influence."

"Maybe there is something special, powerful, about being human in this world, but you don't have to be powerful to be a good leader. And being powerful doesn't mean you will be a good leader. Your father was proof enough of that."

Steven's eye downturned, and his tone grew softer. "And... and you don't have to be a leader either."

He shook his head, and his voice fell to nearly a whisper. "I saw your name in that book. I don't know why, but I do know it meant you weren't able to live the life that you wanted."

Steven paused, his own words ringing in his head. Maybe he couldn't follow this road himself, but it felt good to say this to someone who could.

"You're not beholden to anything here. If you never wanted to do any of this, you don't have to."
 
At this point it’s probably, what, three percent?

"Six and one quarter," murmured Lucien, under his breath.

We can be pretty sure Ignatius has in-roads to them among his contacts.

The Pinplup frowned lightly, as if sceptical. "It is my belief that he bore a great resentment that he lacked such connections..."

"It's not just us that can do good in this world," he said pointedly. "You now have the freedom to act on your own ideals. Without your father's influence."

"Maybe there is something special, powerful, about being human in this world, but you don't have to be powerful to be a good leader. And being powerful doesn't mean you will be a good leader. Your father was proof enough of that."

Steven's eye downturned, and his tone grew softer. "And... and you don't have to be a leader either."

He shook his head, and his voice fell to nearly a whisper. "I saw your name in that book. I don't know why, but I do know it meant you weren't able to live the life that you wanted."

Steven paused, his own words ringing in his head. Maybe he couldn't follow this road himself, but it felt good to say this to someone who could.

"You're not beholden to anything here. If you never wanted to do any of this, you don't have to."

Lucien took a long while to reply. His face shifted subtly, then again, as if he were internally composing himself. He momentarily glanced at Laura, who had been quietly listening in for some time, and she gave a small nod when she caught his eye.

"It'll feel wrong, at first, to make decisions he would disapprove of," she said. "You have to do it anyway. Otherwise we didn't really get rid of him, right?"

Lucien nodded slightly, and looked back to Steven.

"Steven, I... I feel I may be the most suitable candidate to succeed my father, as much as I... detest everything about what that would entail. But you are right. ...I do not desire to martyr myself to this town's governance."

Saying this, the young 'mon seemed to slouch a little in his chair, as if a ramrod inside him had been removed.

"It's not that I don't care for the town," he said, sounding overtly sad for the first time. "I care for it very much. Nor do I lack for administrative skills. But I would simply rather vanish into the desert than play the petty emperor as he did."
 
"Steven, I... I feel I may be the most suitable candidate to succeed my father, as much as I... detest everything about what that would entail. But you are right. ...I do not desire to martyr myself to this town's governance."
For a moment, Steven thought he was seeing double. Looking in a mirror that reflected a version of himself five years younger. He held Lucien's gaze, and something inside his chest clenched. It felt like minutes that he floated there, completely stunned. But then he blinked himself back to the present, except the now the pain in his chest was joined by something else; a jittery, almost-giddy feeling.

"Then don't," he said. "Don't do it. Live your life the way you want."

He still didn't know how to process the conflicting knot in his chest, and his old fidgeting habit resurfaced. He slid a claw along the length of another, the one with a small notch missing in a band around its width. The tip of his claw slid over the notch with a small 'click'.

"I promise you, no one would mistake your stepping away as a lack of caring. And if they did, it's because they don't understand your position; they never will. What it's like to be in your shoes." Like I do. "If there's any time to step back and let proper democratic process do its job, it's now. No one will think lesser of you for it."
 
"It is my belief that he bore a great resentment that he lacked such connections..."
Gladion sighed. "Damn. I still can't help but wonder if he knows more about what we're looking for in some capacity. Hard to resent not having something unless you know it exist. But... Well, I don't imagine he'll tell us, and I don't wish it feel like you're being interrogated in his stead..."

"Then don't," he said. "Don't do it. Live your life the way you want. ... I promise you, no one would mistake your stepping away as a lack of caring. And if they did, it's because they don't understand your position; they never will. What it's like to be in your shoes." Like I do. "If there's any time to step back and let proper democratic process do its job, it's now. No one will think lesser of you for it."
"Agreed." Gladion tried not to think too hard about any connections he could draw to... anything. He'd gotten out. And he wasn't even in his world anymore. So there was no point dwelling. "No one person can really hope to govern the entirety of a town this size alone and give attention to everyone's needs. Even if you're the best one to try, if you care enough to be willing to, then you'll care enough to be hurt when you can't do it all. Can't sustain a thousand Litwick with your soul alone. Anyone who says you should, or that anyone could, is full of it. Hell, Ignatius didn't even care about doing a good job and he still needed you doing a lot of the actual work. You aren't a resource you have a second of if you take over."
 
"Whole point of the frontier is people pitching in to help each other get by," Nova added, head still tilted slightly. "At least, in all the Westerns back home it is..."
 
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