Bert huffed as he watched the proceedings.

Was Cinna always this insufferable?, he couldn’t help but think as the woman in question continued her prim-and-proper routine. Everything had to be in its place, every word said, every syllable pronounced with excruciating precision.

“Be that as it may,” said the aforementioned Cinna, her face framed by perfectly maintained blonde hair, “we cannot simply accuse our neighbors of wrongdoing without ample evidence, lest we stoke the fires of conflict ourselves in so doing.”

“I saw them Cinna,” said Mete, exasperated, “ Andrean uniforms and all. If we hadn’t been there and scared them off, the local pokemon would have gone through with the ritual. They’d nearly completed it by the time we managed to disrupt things! We can’t just let them get away with this.”

Rosewood nodded, placing a comforting hand on Mete’s shoulder. “He is right, Cinna. If we do not do something, we are inviting history to repeat itself. The Continental Accords were written with the clear understanding that we would police our regions and prevent the formation of new Legends. We have managed to hold to that agreement thus far, handling the occasional incident quietly. But if they are going so far as to intentionally provoke wild pokemon, they must be looking for an excuse to break from the Accords. I need not explain to you the consequences of that.”

Cinna’s implacable expression finally cracked, a frown marring the usually pristine, cerene expression.

“War,” she said, with a sigh, “Very well. I will speak with the other leaders on this matter.”

“Thank you,” said Rosewood earnestly, ever the diplomat, “and we will continue our own investigations and keep a careful eye for any similar activity.”

“I am in your debt,” returned Cinna, stoically with a half-bow.

You always say that, but what does that really mean?

As they filed out of the quaint little clearing Cinna preferred to use for such meetings, Bert took another careful look at Mete.

He hid the anxiety well, but the slight rings under his eyes, the way his shoulders hunched just a little said plenty for anyone who knew where to look.

“You can’t keep beating yourself up over this, my friend,” said Noah in a quieter moment once they were away from the proceedings and neatly mirroring Bert’s own thoughts. “You could not have predicted a Pidgeotto leaving its territory and targeting a human settlement for food in the brief window when you were gone.”

Stolen story; please report.

“Yes, I could have. Should have,” said Mete through not-quite-clenched teeth, and it twisted Bert’s heart to hear the boy he thought of more as his brother than his trainer to voice the same self-blame he knew all too well. “It only makes sense. With the Andrean soldiers mucking about in the forest, of course the local predatory pokemon would have begun to look further for food.”

“Even so,” rebutted the blue-clad Noah, his platinum hair swaying as he held a finger up to stymie further self-recriminations, “I overheard the news Seia delivered to you this morning. Her sister tracked down that Pideotto shortly therafter, and it had clearly not been recently fed on a bountiful meal, such as if it had had a whole Nidoran to feast upon.”

“It could have been a different Pidgeotto,” Mete argued.

“Now you’re just being obstinate,” Noah said with a sigh. “It had clearly been badly poisoned. And recently. While it could be a coincidence, the most likely explanation is that it was the same one.”

When Mete just shrugged in response, Noah hung his head, then raised it again with a look of determination before it lightened.

“Perhaps a change of topic then,” he said, then looked down to the charmander, still keeping pace with the two, “How is Bert doing? He’s certainly grown recently.”

“He has,” Mete said noncommittally.

“I’m surprised he still hasn’t evolved. Is he still… ehm…” Noah said, trailing off as he realized the mine he’d very nearly tread at both Mete and Bert’s sour looks.

“Back to business then. We’ve received a report of possible Andrean activity near the border further North of where you spotted them before – a traveler by wing saw them from above. There are no settlements in the immediate vicinity, but would you have an interest in taking a look?”

Mete frowned and looked down to his charmander as if to ask what he thought.

Bert wasn’t sure whether to believe Noah’s explanation. What were the odds a traveler riding a flying pokemon, high above the ground, would even notice a few Andrean soldiers? It could very well be a flimsy excuse to get Mete out into the wilderness so he could decompress a bit. A few days hiking the wilds did always seem to settle the boy’s mind a bit.

The charmander nodded and Mete then did the same. “All right. We’ll take a look. Keep me updated if you hear anything else?”

Noah nodded with a smile. “Of course, I wouldn’t dream of leaving you in the dark,” he said, holding up the pokelink. It was a somewhat new invention, not quite up to the standards of proper phone connections, but it could function to send basic text messages over long distances, even out in the wilds far from any signal towers.

It was embarrassingly easy to eavesdrop on such messages, and slow to transmit them, but it’d do just fine for simple, non-confidential information, such as if the others heard some word of the wayward Nidoran.

The knowledge that we aren’t entirely cut off, combined with plenty of fresh air would do Mete some good, Bert thought.

And maybe I can deal with my own hangups as well, said a little thought he immediately chose to ignore.