Frontier Town Mayoral Residence – Upper Floors

[Jackie Cat]

Guests were prohibited from accessing the upper floors of the mansion during the Gala. Naturally, this meant very little to those with sufficient motivation.

"So what drew you to the Gala?" Laura was asking, of a trio of Unfezant decorated with tassles and frills. A frustrated Patrat had tried to shoo them downstairs, but he'd been rather outclassed in insistence by three wealthy city-slickers and a would-be reporter, all his size or much larger. He'd eventually given up in a sulk, and resigned himself to watching the windows for signs of intruders.

"Oh, well – when the rail line is complete, this will soon become as fine a city as any in the midwest. And of course Empoleon Voclain will be at the centre of that!"

"And I hear he likes other birds..."

"Oh, shush! It's just good business to meet the fellow in person, isn't it? You have to look your mercantile partner in the eye! Shake his wing! Am I right, or am I right?"

Laura nodded agreeably, having no opinion whatsoever on this bullshit. "I can't help but notice you're not in the ballroom with him..."

One of the Unfezant giggled. "Well. You know."

Another looked around and put a wing surreptitiously to her beak. "He's a 'mon of secrets, they say!"

"Do they?"

"Oh yes," affirmed the male Unfezant. "If any of the, ah, stewards ask – we're just having a look at the art, having got lost on our way to the facilities, or something. But really... Who wouldn't want to find Voclain's secret room?"

"Is it a secret, if everyone knows about it?"

"Ah, but nobody knows what's in it, or where it is. That's secret enough!"

Laura made a sage expression of total agreement. Just keep them thinking that what they said was the most important thing ever...

She hadn't been sure what she was even expecting, honestly. A silhouetted figure waking her in her room to explain a secret plan? Nah. But the Gala was here, and all she'd heard so far was what Sonora had told her the other night. So she was snooping again, trying to figure out how to even help, and what Las Picaras were even looking for. She'd already learned a few things that might be useful, and found a few of her fellow 'heroic spirits' also snooping around. Maybe all they needed was a distraction, and an entryway? If only they could communicate and coordinate! Howls afar, she missed her goddamn cellphone!

Trying...

She'd just have to try and get their attention and talk it out. If there was time.

"What on earth is that?"

"Oh! How unsightly. Perhaps a local feral...?"

Laura turned to look where the birds were fussing over.

One of the windows had been daubed with paint in bright primary colours. The symbol looked kindof like an upward arrow...

 

[Jackie Cat]

Prinplup Lucien Voclain had not come out of his room since the arrest of his father. Towards the middle of the day, the residence staff started to fret, and began leaving meals at the foot of his door. These went ignored.

It was said amongst the servants that they knew he was still alive because the sharper-eared among them could hear his breathing.

Eventually, in the late evening, he finally emerged. All he did before heading back inside was to send a Patrat runner to Traveller's Haus to ask any offworlders there (and still awake) to come see him.

He said to tell them he needed to discuss the future of their role in Frontier Town.

 

[Jackie Cat]

Lucien had sent out another invitation to the Wayfarers to meet with him, this time more formally. A hand-written letter delivered by a Watchog runner, one who took the time to find someone in the Haus and specify that anyone in the party was welcome to come.

The Prinplup waited for company not in his office, but in one of the upstairs reception rooms of the manor. Carpeted, lined with bookcases and display cabinets, and comfortably fitted with seats for 'mon of any body plan.

There were even refreshments.