Biology Lab Exam is over! Wish I’d done better though…

Disclaimer: Pokemon belongs to Nintendo and Shogakukan Comics. This non-profit, non-copyright infringing fanfiction belongs to me under international copyright laws and taking it is plagiarism. Thank you. *Phantomness bows*

Notes: <> for telepathy, ** for thoughts, italics if a pokemon talks!

Chapter 5

Monsieur Lugia scolded them in public and congratulated them in private. He had a reputation to keep up, after all, but really, it was always worth it to spite the Cardinal… Lugia-sama was the third most powerful man in the kingdom, after all.

Life quickly settled into a fairly normal routine. All the guards and musketeers had guard duty, but since there was little else to do, Lance, Will, and Brock began accompanying Red on his rounds with Monsieur Kyogre’s other guards, so that when Red joined the company, it was almost as if they had gained four men instead of one.

Afterwards, the four could often be seen dining, wining, and gambling together, and indeed, it was a strong friendship. And so for maybe three weeks, nothing of note happened. Red was beginning to wonder if the reputation of Indigo for intrigues and romance was really just a rumor.

Not that he didn’t enjoy friendship and their way of living, as life was exciting, but he wouldn’t mind some love either. Perhaps he had listened to too many of Brock’s tales. After all, the man was quite renowned in their circles as a great lover.

And now that we have acquainted ourselves with our heroes, let us speak of their temperaments.

Lance was a quiet man, of perhaps twenty-five to thirty years of age, with pale skin and a melancholy expression. His scarlet curls were his crowning glory, while his eyes were a strange set of pale, almost golden yellow. Although he was intelligent and handsome, no one had ever known him to have a mistress. Though he smiled, he never laughed, and he never spoke of women. It was not as though he prevented others from speaking of them, but his bitter comments painted his view of them quite clearly.

Brock, on the other hand, had quite a different character. His bronzed skin and dark hair were the envy of many a woman’s sigh, and he parleyed such into good graces. He talked loudly, and often without caring for the opinions of others. He lived in a sumptuous apartment richly decorated, and hired a trio of sisters as maids. Whenever he passed through Indigo, he could point out a window, through which rich music wafted, and seconds later, a maid in a white apron would come to the window and wave at her Master. It was quite a charming picture. Brock had once wished to acquire the air of nobility Lance carried so off effortlessly, but his finery of dress meant nothing next to his coarse manners. So he made up for it by filling the rooms with stories of his amorous adventures, working his way up from chambermaids and lawyer’s wives to great countesses and duchesses. Brock was currently said to be on intimate terms with a foreign princess who cherished him greatly.

Will was, in his own words, ‘Temporarily a Musketeer’. He was gentle, almost delicate, and spent much of his time buried in his scrolls and books, writing themes for his future priesthood. He had a servant, a shy, plump man named Wallace, who could prepare excellent vegetarian meals. He was as discreet as a man could be, and though above reproach, it was whispered that he had the ear of several ladies quite high up on the social ladder. He wrote excellent poetry, and could often be seen composing love cantos for his friends and acquaintances in the Musketeers. It was unknown why he wore bright orange, but the last man who had asked had spent six weeks recovering and it was generally not thought of as odd.

Red, being an inquisitive soul, of course tried to derive the real nature of his friends. He could tell easily that their names were not true names, after all, what of their family names – and he was sure they were as noble of blood as he, if not more. So he pressed for information.

Brock talked the most, so of course Red had gone to him first. Alas, Brock could tell him little of Lance’s history, even having known him for five or six years. There was a rumor that a frightful treachery in his past had scarred Lance for life, and that he had borne many crosses of adversity. No more could be said, and Red could not find fault with the explanation.

It certainly seemed to fit.

As for Will, it was already known that he was about to go into the priesthood, and he usually played that role up to the hilt. Red questioned Will about Brock, and he was perfectly ready to talk about the man’s romantic adventures and interests, but little more. When Red pressed, Will simply smiled.

“They say I shall make a very discreet confessor, Monsieur, and doubtless, it must be so. Those exploits I talk about are only those that others have personally boasted to me. I am afraid that I cannot betray the trust others have vested in me.”

“Well, do stay a while after dinner and talk.” Red smiled, for they were currently in the sitting room of one of their acquaintances, several other Musketeers had started a game of cards and the betting was fast and furious.

Will just shook his head, made his apologies to the host, and exited the party. He apparently had to work on his thesis.

Red often wondered just why his friend had become a Musketeer, after all, he seemed quite suited to the solitary and antisocial life of priesthood. Still, he did not bother to press too hard. That would just be rude.

Red was just settling down in his room with a good book on dueling etiquette, after a day of duty when a knock came at the door. Frowning, he opened it to find a somewhat familiar looking man in the rough leather apron of a tradesman and an agitated look. He blinked.

“Do I know you? You look familiar.”

“You should!” The man replied with a cough. “I’m your landlord!”

“Oh.” Red winced. This wasn’t about the rent money, was it? Guards weren’t paid a great deal, and he hadn’t paid rent in three months.

“But enough about me. I’ve heard from reliable sources that you’re a trustworthy young man. I need your help.”

“Oh?” That caught his interest.

“Yes. It’s a delicate family matter. Can I trust you?”

“Nothing you say shall leave this room, unless you wish it.”

The landlord, Monsieur Giovanni, gave an obsequious smile and nodded. “If you could help me with my problem, I would be willing to waive the rent you owe me, and on top of that, pay you fifty pistoles. You do seem to be rather short on money right now, my young friend.”

“Say no more.”

Giovanni coughed. After a long-winded speech, Red gathered that the queen was somehow involved with Giovanni’s wife, Whitney, and that Whitney had been abducted four days ago and this very morning he had received a ransom letter.

Whitney apparently kept important state secrets for Queen Sabrina… not the least of which involved her possible affair with the Duke of Ever Grande, Morty…

Interesting.

He should inform his friends then, and as the Musketeers were ever ready to spite the Cardinal, it ought to be well received. If the Queen chose Morty over the King, fondly nicknamed ‘Karate King’, though his true name was Ken, who was a weak man from the Saffron province, well…

Who were they to judge the affairs of royalty?

End Chapter

Completed 3/23/06

Yep, more introduction and background for ya’ll! Don’t like my writing style? Apologies, but I won’t change it.

Sabrina x Karate King (ugh!), Sabrina x Morty (^^), Giovanni x Whitney (Scary, I know) and possible later Red x Whitney, if I stay true to the book