image [https://i.imgur.com/kV18TCt.jpg]
"Have you heard...?"
"... rumors say that..."
"... the streets and stand up for our rights!"
"... we must not trust the promises of..."
Fragments of conversation reached Raymond's ears. The red upholstery of his far too hard chair was worn and anything but comfortable. Located in the sixth arrondissement of Lumiose, Café Laucon had long since seen its best days. Desolate, bare walls were covered with tattered newspaper clippings. Nevertheless, the establishment enjoyed a steady stream of incoming guests. Some came only to eat breakfast and read the newspaper, but most stayed to talk behind the more or less closed doors about the latest rumors: with their friends, acquaintances, or in case of need, trustworthy-looking strangers.
"Is everything to your satisfaction, monsieur?" The waitresses voice snapped Raymond out of his thoughts. Before him stood a young woman, she wore a stained apron over her clothes. Her smile was friendly but couldn't quite conceal the deep circles under her eyes. She looked weary. Raymond wondered if she had children; if she maybe had to work on multiple jobs to pay the rent and put some edibles on the table. He chased his thoughts away and presented an encouraging smile.
"Thank you, madam. Everything’s in perfect order. Could you possibly bring another place setting? Supplemented by a coffee and a croissant with butter and jam. My appointment should be here at any moment."
Victoria's entered the building half an hour later. Her coffee was lukewarm by now and she hastily apologized to Raymond for being late, before they devoted themselves to their breakfast. While the whispered conversations at the neighboring tables condensed into a cloud of noise, it remained unusually quiet at the conspirators' table. Victoria's eyelashes fluttered briefly as she looked around, causing Raymond to twitch subtly at the corners of his mouth.
"So, have you made up your mind?" Victoria finally broke the silence.
"Yes," Raymond replied curtly. Victoria's lips contorted into the cunning grin of a Meowth.
"And the girl?" she asked.
"Her name is Sal. She has been living in the dumps for about a year and a half. Before she entered Guillaumes territory, she was probably out and about in the slums and outskirts. Apparently, she's an orphan who escaped from her orphanage quite a years ago and has been on the streets ever since."
"Have you talked to her yet?"
Raymond sipped his coffee. He raised his hand to summon the waitress.
"To catch a fish, you not only need bait but also patience."
Victoria rolled her eyes. "Keeping up with that mysterious touch, hm? Well, whatever helps you out is good game, I guess. Oh, and when we already speak of fishes that are to be caught: Does the name Flavio Cantore ring a bell to you?"
Raymond frowned thoughtfully, doubling the wrinkles on his face. He looked up at the waitress who was approaching the table.
"Another coffee, if you'd be so kind," he urged the young lady. After the waitress had moved away, Raymond's lips moved incessantly, forming Flavio Cantore's name again and again. Finally, his face lit up.
"That was ages ago. I think I met him once at a banquet. Wasn't he a prophet?"
Victoria nodded. "Hmm, an extremely influential one at that. A hardliner. He’s been in prison for five months, awaiting a trial that‘ll never happen."
Raymond's eyebrows rose in astonishment. "A clergyman in prison, that's a new one. Tell me about the charge."
"High treason. To a certain extent, he was the impetus for the ban on political parties that’s about to come. Not exactly the cause, but certainly a more than welcome scapegoat. Nevertheless, the crown doesn’t dare to sentence him to death. Killing Cantore would cause more trouble than simply letting him rot."
"Indeed. To kill a prophet would mean an immense loss of face among the believing population and lead to further unrest. I assume that today's breakfast is related to Flavio Cantore, isn't it." The way Raymond spoke was not a question but a statement. Victoria looked at him with feigned snub.
"My goodness, Ray! Can't I simply have breakfast with you? Why do you suspect a hidden motive behind each of our meetings?"
Raymond sighed but refrained from retorting. Instead, he rolled up his newspaper and took his wallet out of the inside pocket of his jacket.
"Okay, okay! I'll admit defeat – you're right," Victoria admitted through gritted teeth. "Can't I at least have a little fun with you?"
Raymond pushed his chair back and made another effort to get up.
"My goodness, Ray. Stay seated, would you? I was just about to tell that I arranged a meeting this afternoon. I’d like you to keep me company. I’m visiting two friends and I’d love to introduce them to you!"
"In that case, you may tell me about Cantore," Raymond said.
"You know, there are different factions in Zygarde's Prophets, right? Hmm, I never really understood why they call themselves that when I think about it. It's not like every one of them is a prophet. More like… a bunch of fools banding together under a jolly nickname."
"Victoria," Raymond admonished impatiently.
"All right, all right. I'll get to the point, then. Where did I stop? Oh. Yeah, different currents. Three of those are important. On the one hand, the nature-loving ones. Spineless pacifists who are too good for a pretty fight, if you ask me. They want to stay out of it all. Because Zygarde is already rocking the boat, you know. Keeping the balance as it is and stuff. No meddling wanted. He's a powerful Pokémon after all, keeping balance and that shit.
Then we have the do-gooders. Probably the most popular interpretation. All the talk of peaceful coexistence between humans and Pokémon. I mean... honestly, have they never been in the wild?! Bunch of naive idiots. Well, all the same. Just forget about ‘em. They ain't worth shit for our cause.
Movement number three – entrance Flavio Cantore. Cantore publicly said that human society was not in equilibrium but had gone off the rails. He believes it is his sacred mission to establish true equality. If i remember correctly, he used many flowery words like abuse of power and corruption before condemning the crown in the strongest possible terms you can imagine. Pretty inflammatory, the whole thing – and of course the reason for his arrest."
"It's a thin line between courage and stupidity," Raymond said indifferently. Victoria shrugged before continuing with the details. A little bit later, Raymond waved to the waitress. When the young lady looked over, he put enough Pokédollars on the table for breakfast, including what he thought was a reasonable tip and shortly afterwards paid the bill. Now, it was time to meet Victoria's 'friends'.
Warm rays of sunlight broke through the gray clouds and pushed away the pale dawn. The glittering light danced playfully on the river that Raymond and Victoria crossed. They traveled along the Rue de Mélac, one of the main streets in this part of the city.
"First a park, then a café – I'm already curious about the next destination, you'll take me to," Raymond said. The old man followed Victoria through the busy street. People rushed past them to go to work, some were out shopping and others simply enjoyed a walk in the warm wintersun. To Raymond, the townspeople seemed like a swarm of bees in great excitement. The noise of their numerous conversations was woven together into a loud hum in which the individual voices were drowned out. They were tense. As if they could sense the massive things, that were going on in secrecy.
“I need to know when the party ban is coming into effect and when the protest is planned,” Raymond said over the noise of the crowd.
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"The ban is due to be passed on Thursday. Hmm, we want to mobilize the masses on the same evening and strike. Stoking the fire while it's hot, so to speak."
Raymond nodded. "I want you to use Guillaume. To be precise: two or three groups under his command. Even more, if possible. Pay them to distribute incendiaries and bombs among the population. Agitators, attackers, wall-breakers - the usual shenanigans. Our street rat is supposed to act as a courier. Make sure your informant isn't in her group."
"Hmm, I should be able to do that," Victoria said.
"So, she's infiltrated Guillaume to the point where she can directly influence his movements," Raymond thought. He recalled the circumstances under which he met Victoria 14 years ago. "She is and remains a dangerous woman."
"Good. Tell me about the gendarmerie. I want to know how well they are organized and what measures can be expected."
"Hmm, that's difficult to say. They are probably forced to go all in. Several hundred troops to contain the movements of the demonstrators. In addition, mounted men to disperse the crowds, if necessary. Although they'll only be there for the sole of flaunting their bravado. No one wants to use cavalry in the city. Narrow streets and lots of people aren’t exactly what you call good conditions for this type of troop. Then, of course, the Armored as a protective unit. Several peacemakers, some psykers, and the mobile intervention squad."
"I suspect they're still using undercover agents to search for radical elements before the intervention squad cuts in," Raymond said.
"Of course. Why shouldn't they?"
"I see. After we've met your two friends, I'd like to take a look at a city map with you. I need to know which streets the demonstration is taking and which police stations are nearby.”
"I can't follow your plan but already have a bad feeling about it. You do realize that an operation of this dimension can't be planned down to the tiniest details? We have agitators, yeah, but there's never any certainty. A lot of people will show up and that changes many things for us," Victoria looked skeptically at Raymond. A short time later the two left Rue de Mélac and stopped in front of a bakery at the beginning of a side street.
A long time ago, the building’s façade must have shined in a bright green. Time had left its mark on the building. Now, decay was showing his ugly face. The paint was peeling off in some places. A pretzel-shaped board sign hung above the front door. From the street, one could peer into the sales room through the large window. Victoria opened the door to the rang of a bell.
"Good morning, Madame!" Victoria greeted an elderly and ponderous baker who was in the middle of a sales pitch. "Master Garnier sends us. It's about the flour delivery for next week."
"Magali!" the saleswoman shouted, turning her head to a passageway on the right side of the room. "It's about the flour delivery!"
A young woman stepped out the door behind the counter. Her blonde hair was tied back and she had flour on her hands, face, and clothes. With nimble movements, she loosened the rope that separated counter and wall, then made a polite gesture, to welcome her guests of honor.
"Madame and Monsieur, please follow me."
Raymond entered the inside rooms of the bakery. He was greeted by the sight of bread and huge bowls, placed on massive wooden tables. Some of them were filled with flour and dough. Large stone ovens with heavy cast iron doors were set into the wall and fired by the workers. The room was a hub of activity and radiated a heat that made Raymond sweat under his suit.
"Antoine and Patrice are already waiting," murmured the young woman. On the left side of the room they found another door and behind it a poorly lit corridor. Raymond noticed the shape of a spiral staircase looming in the darkness, leading upward.
"So, the bakery is a façade. Possibly a center for clandestine operations. That’s interesting." Raymond wondered who the backer of this secret shelter was, though he already had a guess. He followed Victoria along the staircase. She opened the door to a room that was probably directly above the bakery. Three narrow windows ensured that sufficient daylight was able to enter the space.
In the middle of the room stood an oval table, offering ten seats for people to sit. Two comfortable-looking sofas stood in a corner and formed a hospitable lounge, together with three armchairs and a small table. Two men sat in the armchairs. Given their age, they could have been father and son. They were engrossed in a deep conversation.
"Tori!" the older man exclaimed joyfully. With powerful movement, he jumped up and welcomed the newcomers with a warm smile and arms wide open. He had the physique of a boxer and his angular face was framed by a full beard that was already beginning to turn gray. The few wrinkles on his face and the good-natured yet strong smile gave him something of a philosophical aura.
"If I may finally introduce my apprentice to you: Patrice Dourie!" The boxer's paw squeezed the younger man's shoulder.
"A hatchling, that’s about to leave its nest," was Raymond's first impression of Patrice. The black-haired youth looked handsome, charming, and daring. His athletic yet slender body stood in stark contrast to his older companion. Raymond confirmed his assessment when Patrice greeted Victoria with a kiss on the hand.
"An honor to meet you, Madame Dupoy."
Unlike her usual self Victoria giggled. Childlike joy flashed in her eyes and her controlled mimic was replaced by a playful one, reminding Raymond once again how gifted she was as an actress.
"That's so sweet of you! The honor is all mine. You can call me Tori, if you want. All my friends do so. Except, perhaps, this gentleman," she added with a grin as she noticed Raymond's critical gaze.
"And this gentleman is?" the boxer asked kindly.
"An old friend of Victoria's," Raymond replied with reserved politeness.
"Very pleased to make your acquaintance, monsieur. I am Antoine Moureau and this is my apprentice, Patrice Dourie. I'm sure you've heard of us."
"Not really," Raymond commented. He noticed something flash in Antoine's and Patrice's eyes, who were taken by surprise. This much was evident.
"Would you be so kind as to tell us your name, Monsieur?" Patrice asked, a touch too kindly. Raymond snorted, pulled out a chair, sat down at the oval table, and looked at Victoria.
"I have neither the time nor the need for the pointless exchange of feigned pleasantries. Accordingly, please explain to me why I have been dragged here and what you would like me to do for you."
"My goodness." Only now did Raymond register the cake, the glasses, and the cups on the table. They were neatly arranged, along with small forks, cake plates, and napkins. Much to his satisfaction, Raymond found that his brusque manner had greatly dampened the mood in the room. Antoine's controlled expression hid a seething volcano of emotions, while Patrice was hopelessly overwhelmed by the situation. It was abundantly clear that the young man was unaccustomed to rudeness and disrespect.
"My friend Antoine has a close confidant who is in a – mhhh, how do you say? – in a… predicament. A special situation, dire straits one might say. It’s where you come into play. Your peerless genius and great talents are predestined to solve this delicate issue! You see, Antoine and Patrice would like to see their friend out of his unlucky circumstances rather yesterday than tomorrow. Can I put it that way? Interrupt me if I say something wrong, yes?"
By now Victoria had sat down. As she finished speaking, she grabbed a knife and sliced off a piece of the cake. Her blissful expression testified to the quality of the sweet treat. Their two hosts followed suit and sat down. Antoines formerly friendly glance gave way to the earnestness of a businessman about to finish a deal. Raymond was the last to take a seat at the table.
"Can you guarantee his confidentiality?" asked Antoine.
"Otherwise, he wouldn't be here, would he?" Victoria murmured unimpressed as she chewed her cake. "If anyone can help you, it's my nameless, mysterious friend."
"It's hard for me to trust a stranger, who doesn’t even care to tell his name. But if Tori vouches for you…" Antoine turned his attention back to Raymond. With his right hand, he ran through his beard, clenched it into a fist and placed it thoughtfully in front of his chin and mouth for a few seconds. Having reached a decision, he slammed his fist on the table.
"Alright let’s set this straight. We require assistance. More precisely, we’re looking for someone who can free our friend."
"I'm assuming the person in question is none other than Flavio Cantore," Raymond presented his conclusion. Antoine gave Victoria an unfriendly stare, which she shrugged off with a smile, while Raymond reeled in the catch she prepared for him.
"Well, monsieur. As a matter of principle, I do not enter any business that could prove to be disadvantageous for me. Before I decide to assist you in this matter, as you phrased so beautifully, I require information. Starting with the question of my reward. I advise you to remember, that it is not a small favor you are asking for, Monsieurs - every trade requires an appropriate exchange of goods or favors, and I know my worth very well."
Raymond already guessed the price Victoria was aiming for in this game of cat and mouse. She had found two desperate followers of an influential religion who had every reason to hate the government. They were on a mission, and Raymond had the means to fulfill it - the rest was a matter of price. For the first time since he entered the room, his lips curled into a grin.
Victoria followed Raymond with springy steps. She seemed very pleased: with herself, with Raymond, and the world in general.
"What are your next steps?"
Her partner in crime stopped in the middle of the street and looked up at the sky.
"It's time for me to visit an old friend," he murmured, while people walked past them left and right. Raymond didn't know if Victoria unerstood his words and their deeper meaning or if she dismissed them as the incomprehensible rambling of an old man. Not that he minded. Raymond blinked away his longing and melancholy. He then forced himself to concentrate on the here and now.
"If my arithmetic skills don't fail me, we still have four days left until the party ban comes into effect. I'm going to see you the day after tomorrow so you can show me the plans for the big day and your small demonstration. Be sure to prepare a map with planned routes as well as the nearby police stations."
Victoria wrinkled her nose. "Any reason, why you're so invested in the demonstration? It's not that big of a deal. Only the usual riots. Well, maybe a little more violently than usual. Mhhh, but I don't see our benefit – aside from stirring up public resentment."
"You'll find out soon enough," Raymond commented smugly.
"Is this revenge for earlier? To keep me in the dark until I find out the inscrutable and perfidious plan of the great mastermind? Come on! I couldn't tell you from the beginning that they were among Zygarde's Prophets upper ranks, couldn’t I?! Where would be the fun in that? Now, tell me, pleeeease," pouted Victoria playfully.
Raymond grinned contentedly.
"You do have a point. But... where would be the fun in that?"