“Let me get this straight: Shortly after making contact with Friend-Radegast, you left him to fend for himself in an unnatural sandstorm?” the King of the Coral hummed with dissatisfaction.
“It was my orders to inform him of our actions, and report back as soon as possible. I could not lend any further assistance beyond the shores.”
“That’s fair enough,” the King of the Shadows gurgled, “You are a mere Skrelp scout. None could expect you to perform any more than your all-important task.”
“I’m not worth such praise, sir.”
“Nonsense,” Shadows rose from his seat, a flat slab of stone that had been moved to the meeting area deep, deep, very deep below the ocean surface. Under the weight of trillions of tonnes of water, few pokemon could get remotely close to observe the meetings of the Dragalge and their respective clans. Not even machines of science have been developed that could reach this meeting ground, though they would be able to catch whispering echoes through nearby sonars. hundreds- if not thousands- of the water-dragon-types all gathered in one space, with countless more throughout the oceans of the world. The red-brown kelp vines swirled and swished through the high-pressure ocean depths as if they were but air to the well-adapted creatures. And yes, they could adapt to all forms of water pressure, shut up science. “What shall we do?”
“Wait on reports,” Depths replied.
“Kings!” a small voice blurted through the ocean depths. A second skrelp bolted from the darkness into the bioluminescent light of the nearby plantlife. “A slave camp has been destroyed in the desert! Friend-Radegast was involved in its destruction!”
“How did you come across this news?”
“Several of the escaped slaves were searching for places to hide. They said there are hundreds displaced. They said they were being held by other pokemon until a human matching Friend-Radegast’s description broke them out.”
“If they were freed by Friend-Radegast, we should make do on our friendship,” Depths announced, “We should help these slaves find safe havens.”
“These slaves are not friends of ours,” the King of the Shore folded two arm-like kelp vines.
“I am afraid I agree with Shore,” Shadow added, “These slaves were held by other pokemon, not humans. This could be a conspiracy we are not prepared for.”
“Humans, we can understand, we can predict,” King of the Wrecks added as well, “Pokemon slave-owners… I cannot comprehend this.”
“Is that any less than us?” Depths asked, “We command thousands between ourselves.”
“We are not slave-owners, Depths,” Wrecks snapped, “Do not forget how we came to be the trusted leaders of the Seven Clans.”
Depths calmed down somewhat. Wrecks was right, but Wrecks did not owe Friend-Radegast his life. Failing to assist in this slave camp fiasco… Depths had to admit it blinded him. “Very well,” Depths conceded. “I am under the impression that we will continue the course, wait for reports, and come to an informed decision together.”
“Hear hear!” the clan leaders chanted. After many days, the meeting between the Dragalge was adjourned at last. They finally split off and returned to their daily lives. The normalcy would only end once a satisfactory amount of reports came to the leaders.
—
Radegast strolled over the gate threshold into Nimbasa city, side by side with Elder the Haunter, who was carrying a tied-up Sandslash. The Togetic and Shaymin provided support and kept an eye on the ghost’s cargo.
As Elder listened and absorbed every scrap of information the two wildlings gave. When they pointed out the building holding the winged red egg, Elder couldn’t help but wonder. How did they rent out a building in what appeared to be the second-most expensive city in the region?
Radegast was not looking at the building. He was frozen where he stood, because he saw someone he did not plan on seeing so soon.
“Radegast? Are you alright?!” Margriet burst forward as soon as she saw the bloodstains on Radegast’s hoodie. Considering she only saw her brother only a little over a day ago, this tattered, battered look was outright jarring. She hugged her brother, much to the surprise of Elder. “What in the world happened in the desert?”
“Marge,” Radegast seemed confused as Margriet distanced herself, with her hands on his shoulders. He cleared his throat. “Good to see you again, sis. How’s Raikou?”
Margriet’s eye twitched at the stupid nickname, and she removed her hands from Radegast’s shoulders, only to shove her brother back. Radegast laughed as he regained his footing. “Pissed off at you. You have a tendency to anger legendary pokemon, don’t you?”
“To be fair, he’d have done the same if I tried to crush his friend,” Radegast shrugged. “Bu-ut I don’t think he’ll see it that way. Anyway, what do you want?”
“I was told not to fight you anymore,” Margriet confessed, “So I’m here for conversation, not confrontation.”
“I appreciate the gesture, Marge,” Radegast held up a scarred fist. Specifically, it was the one that was bandaged after punching the Raikou.
Margriet returned the fist-bump, only noticing the scar tissue afterwards. She also noticed just how tough Radegast’s fist really was, feeling the shock of the proverbial “immovable object” return through her own arm. “Any chance you could call me by my actual name?”
“I’ll stop once you stop getting mad at it, eh?” Radegast grinned.
Margriet’s face reddened in pent-up anger, but she eventually sighed and calmed down. “So… where did you get that cylinder?”
“It’s a fold-up guitar, really cool tech. I won it from Virbank City gym,” Radegast replied, almost passionately, as if the instrument were one of the few things he really cared about. “I should play somethi-“ Radegast rose his arms to get the guitar off his back, and saw the blood stains on his sleeves. “Ah, right. I should get this sorted out first.”
“No brother of mine is going shopping for clothes while I’m here. I’ll make you respectable.”
“Just need some light layers I can switch out during the seasons.” Radegast replied, “And a new hairband for my hai-“
Margriet clapped a hand over her brother’s mouth. “Bro, do you even know where you are? Nimbasa City is the home of Style.” She waved an arm over the city skyline. “Nimbasa is the heart of leisure! I won’t take no for an answer! Plus, you can’t challenge the Gym leader looking like this.”
“Well, one: I’m not the one challenging the gym. Two: that’s your opinion,” Radegast tried to resist as his sister wrapped an arm around his own to drag him around the city. He eventually shook himself free after a few steps. “I’m good, really.”
“Bro,” Margriet jabbed at Radegast’s sleeves, only to recoil when it turned out some of the sleeve was still slightly damp. “Eugh! I will light that hoodie on fire I swear to Reginald.” she even produced a lighter.
“Alright, Marge, alright,” Radegast reluctantly pulled the hoodie off, “I guess I’m outgrowing it anyway,” he said. The hoodie was the same garb he wore when he first left. Now that he was taller, the hoodie barely cleared his belt when outstretched. “Alright,” he finally conceded as his shirt and hoodie were surrendered to Margriet. His tanktop only served to accentuate the muscle he had accumulated from training in school, and the adventures he had gone through.
As she lit the two on fire to let burn in the middle of the solid stone street, the Champion-tier trainer summoned a powerful-looking Poliwrath for fire safety. With the tanktop showing Radegast’s build, Margriet noticed the acid burn on her brother’s shoulder, as well as many a scar. “I think a full-on make-over is in order,” Margriet flatly stated.
“Noooooo fuck that, dude!” Radegast backed away, waving his arms. “I am not cutting these dreads, Marge.”
She smiled in an evil fashion. Finally, revenge for the stupid nickname! “You are not seeing Elesa looking like that, I would simply die of shame.”
“You would die of shame? Man maybe I should go right now, get you out of my hair,” Radegast began to walk, but was caught by Margriet.
“No ifs, ands, or buts about it, Radegast,” Margriet’s Raikou had been summoned as well to block the fifteen-year-old’s path. It snarled savagely at the boy, who maintained his composure.
“Yo, sorry about punching you,” Radegast rose a hand to pet the Raikou, only to pull away a mere instant before a snap. “To be honest, it hurt me more than it hurt you.” Margriet laughed, and Radegast continued. “Alright, you win. I’ll go shopping. Been too long anyway.”
Meanwhile, Elder glanced between the two siblings and the two wildlings. “Lord-Regent, we still have this to take care of.”
It was then that Margriet noticed the tied-up Sandslash. “What are you doing to that Sandslash?”
“It’s related to the desert,” Radegast replied, “He was running some slave camp. The Togetic and Shaymin came to arrest him and all.”
“A Shaymin?” Margriet hummed. A mythical pokemon, of all things? Hardly surprising that her brother didn’t even notice just how rare Shaymin were. The two of them looked so cute side by side, especially next to that disgusting old Haunter carrying a dirty old rat.
“Tell you what,” Radegast subconsciously stepped between his sister and the Shaymin, “I’ll meet you at the Pokemon centre after we’re done with the Sandslash, a’ight?”
Margriet harrumphed, “Ten minutes, and then I’ll look for you. You don’t want that, bro.”
“Never do, Marge.” Once more, the nickname got a reaction. Margriet stormed off, much to Radegast’s amusement.
Once his sister left, Radegast let Elder, Sienna, and Gambit lead the way. As they walked, the human produced a swiss army knife, and the sixth pokeball he had bought in Virbank and began tinkering with the locking mechanism.