p-bugle
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Chapter 35: The Black Horse
"You called, Sir?"
Binair gave a soft hum in response. The breeze was calm. Soothing rays of sunshine flushed between clouds over the roof of the West Faire Guild Hall, and yet Chimera could not get rid of the aching tension in his chest. To run out and prepare the troops for the inevitable march. To find some way to get through the hours to come knowing he'd done everything to preserve life and limb. To throw himself off of the nearby ledge. To do… something.
"Care to enjoy the view, old chum?" Binair asked, levitating a brass set of binoculars to his eyes from a nearby patio table. "I admit it could be a little better on a day like this, but all we can do is employ the hand we're dealt."
Taking his place at Binair's side (on top of a hollow milk crate so he could see over the railing), Chimera needed no clarification. Just a few miles away, pouring out of the dozens of ships nestling against the docks of Pith Town Harbor, were the grey outlines of hundreds upon thousands of pallids. They'd be at their doorstep within the hour. Their hue the same as the being who had supported him through high cliffs and frigid winds, yet also those responsible for the Zorua hooked up to an IV a floor or so below.
"W-what's our plan of action, Sir?" Chimera asked. "Barricades? Let them straight to the guild hall? This isn't gonna go away easy, one way or another. They've had months to plan out every step."
"I've a somewhat more… encompassing strategy that I wish to share with you," Binair replied. "Though, I sincerely wished it hadn't come to this. Before that business, however, I wish to offer an apology."
Binair turned, unable to hide the tinge of remorse leftover from the family reunion. From the distinct, perturbed tapping of his hooves, Chimera could tell his superior was not used to apologies, yet he owned them well.
"For what, Sir?"
"For my lies of omission since the past few months," Binair replied, grinding his hoof to the marble floor. "With minor exceptions, of which you've owned up to, you've served valiantly in the best interests of myself, and the guild at large ever since we played that first game of hoops. And yet, I've held knowledge of that gear at your side and more, yet played the ignorant fool."
Chimera's eyes widened, the glowing paperweight in his bag suddenly feeling heavier. Scratching his neck, Chimera looked to its ambient hue, less able to meet Binair's gaze.
"I've known you like to keep things close to the chest for a while now, Sir," Chimera said back. "Just trying to repay someone who's done more than I could ever ask for, and is by far the best boss I've ever had. Y-you… Sir… you've always seemed a bit partial towards me."
Binair bit his tongue, though neither of the Giragarig's mouths offered a denial. Chimera fiddled with his hands in response; there were a million ways to say this, what was the right one?
"The secret missions. The promotions. T-the personal office with my own secretary!" Chimera continued, forcing a smile to Binair. "I've… I've been your 'old chum' since the beginning, and yet I've never known why. N-not that I mind. Quite the opposite! It's just... "
Binair nodded; he need not finish. A sharp breeze whirled as the two stood in silence. With all the comfort of a bomb defuser, Chimera looked to the ledge. If it were not for the impending flood of pallids, or the badge that stared back at him, he was half a mind to jump off right then and there. What greeted him looking up, however, was a tepid smile from Binair.
"Well, your impeccable work ethic and leadership skills certainly helped, but I admit there's been another reason I've held you in high favor. Perhaps a quick field trip could kill two birds with one stone?"
The Girafarig turned before Chimera could offer a rebuttal. There was something mischievous in the tail that stared back at him. A bit more than usual.
"Should be a rather uplifting endeavor," Binair continued. "Please don't panic, old chum."
Chimera's maw was open mid objection as everything around the Bagon's scales started to feel… a bit different. A familiar pink aura had coalesced around his body, pushing against his movements as if he were moving in molasses. What followed was a feeling of weightlessness, as if lighter than air. The faint smile that returned to his maw was all too corroborating.
"S-sir?!"
The Bagon was a full foot off the milk crate before hearing a soft clunk. He let out another gasp, just a tad lighter than from the impromptu levitation, seeing what was the tipped over bottom of the crate flip open. Underneath was a small keypad, not unlike what he'd seen in the more secure areas of his prior life. Curiously, the keys seemed far too small for any fine motor function from Binair's hooves, but a psychic press did the job just as well.
"Y-you," Chimera stammered, chuckling a bit as he met the Girafarig's grin. "You could have just told me to move."
"And not grant my Bagon companion his ultimate aspiration?" Binair replied. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. Please try and commit the code to memory, old chum; can't afford any mistakes for what's ahead."
A soft mechanical wir sounded below their feet from the final key press. With a faint rumble, the very marble beneath their feet began to move , retracting to form an empty chamber perhaps big enough to fit a snorlax in. It had a sparse carpet lining, with a panel on one side holding two buttons with arrows up and down. Chimera couldn't help but give an approving nod to no one in particular; how many other jobs had secret doors?
"Well," Chimera asked, "going down?"
They couldn't have been in the somewhat cramped elevator for over a minute, but Chimera had forgotten how long moments like these could last. A soft jingle played from a hidden speaker as Bagon and Girafarig stared ahead. One second passed, followed by another, followed by another still…
"So…" Chimera mused.
"So," came the reply.
"Ever had a problem with that tail of yours nipping people?"
One blink, then two.
"What? Oh, not usually. Had my back to a Mawile once when it got a bit too competitive. Cerise used to play a game in her early youth seeing how close she could get without it striking. I'll do my best to have my front to her now more often than my ba— ah, here we are."
The bunker seemed as peculiar from what Chimera saw as what he couldn't. From the concrete flooring, to the corrugated steel roof, to what had to be dozens of paper frappuccino cups haphazardly tossed into a corner waste bin, it seemed to combine the aspects of a doomsday shelter and disheveled personal office. The elephant in the room was a large, hexagonal structure on the far end. A sizable green tarp covered every bit, as well as towering boxes and shelves at either side. If Chimera listened closely, he could hear a faint electronic hum.
"Please don't mind the mess, old chum. Secrecy has… prevented the cleaning crew from covering for my usual dishevelment. If you wouldn't mind, I would like to show you a little something."
A wide desk not unlike what Chimera had seen in Binair's personal office was nestled against one of the walls. In place of the Girafarig's usual papers and folders were a menagerie of meters, testing tools, even what looked like a soldering iron. Beside a propped up photo of Girafarig and Zorua in the corner, levitated what Chimera could only describe as a model house.
"What's that, Sir?" Chimera asked, a modest smile soothing his worries. "A house for Durants?"
"Joltik, if you were lucky," Binair replied. "Though… not unlike the real deal. You'll find the much larger variant in a wonderfully quaint neighborhood called 'The Idyll of Faire'. Perhaps an hour's drive from here along the coast."
It was only once it was floating between them that the clay shingle roof, yellow stucco walls and palm tree decorations of the modest structure were clear to see. One of Binair's hooves nestled against the roof, a certain softness taking to the Girafarig's features as the house rotated.
"Looks like a nice little sanctuary, though… I don't think it's here because you got into scenic modeling," Chimera said.
"Correct," Binair replied. "I should take you there sometime, old chum. My former secretary settled down a year back and made chocolate chip cookies to die for when I visited. In truth, though… if everything goes to plan, it won't be more than a week before this humble abode is my home. Well, the home of a family."
Chimera's once leisurely eyes shot open at the connotation. The Bagon blinked, and blinked once more; the two bedroom, condo sized replica suddenly took up a whole new meeting. There was a certain sense of pride in Binair's stance as he smiled back at Chimera. More pride than any new factory, guild hall, or farm could put in the Girafarig.
"R-really, Sir?" Chimera asked. "I-I mean, I understand, but… I never expected this from you. Will Cerise be alright with it?"
"I can only hope. I plan to bring things up to her once she's fully recovered, and this dark business is over," Binair replied. "There's a new amphitheatre nearby I finished overseeing last week, as well as some security agencies that will pay clean coin to have an experienced thief test their business model. With any luck, the perfect place for a new beginning… a new chance to right my wrongs."
A Girafarig who owned an office bigger than the entire house, a Girafarig that Chimera could scarcely see not instructing, organizing, or otherwise working for the opulent building above their heads. True, in hindsight he should have seen this coming someday, but this soon?!
"Wait," Chimera stammered, "how are you going to oversee the—what's gonna happen if you can't oversee the guild? I-I want this as much as you, Sir, but I've been around long enough to know that it'll decline without you."
The silence lasted a little too long for Chimera's liking. And yet, there was not a single break in Binair's demeanor, not one indication that the walls around them would crumble if the Girafarig packed his bags and left the very next day. There was only a single deep breath. Binair cleared his throat, gazing down to Chimera; if they were playing poker, Chimera would guess he'd been stacking his cards for a while.
"I believe this brings us back to your original question, old chum. A quick trip down memory lane if you wouldn't mind: What exactly happened, when you first arrived in this world?"
Chimera closed his eyes, rubbing a stubby hand just barely against the start of his rocky forehead. It had felt like… ages ago, and yet, the monotony of yesterday's Chimera seemed only brief flashes in comparison.
"Well… I met Argon, of course. We got to talking, I found out I was a three foot tall lizard with blue scales. Did my first cliff jump, she agreed to let me join the guild as her team member. Met you and had that first game of—"
"Apologies, but before that," Binair said. "The very beginning."
The stubby hand moved from Chimera's forehead, while the mind underneath worked to parse the Girafarig's meaning.
"I remember mostly that I was in the water," Chimera continued. "Couldn't see a damn thing because a blinker seed got in my mouth. After getting to the surface, I-I… I think I heard a voice. Damn, what did it say?"
The hand moved to his chin. It was like paddling against the waves even trying to remember the words. The Bagon cringed, desperately trying to find a voice matching the scenery filling his black vision.
"'I apologize for the shock'," Chimera recited, "but for this whole endeavor to work, for me to ever get to see—"
All at once, it hit him. Chimera's heart skipped a beat. His hands trembled against his scales. It… it couldn't be. How could—
"—Her again, my identity must be kept a secret. I hope you understand."
Opening his eyes, Chimera couldn't tell whether they were more in disbelief than his ears. Before him stood Binair, his smirk hidden by a large speaker levitated from the desk to his maw. The synthetic voice was unmistakable.
"I will say, old chum," Binair said, speaker falling to the floor, "you certainly made true on my request to show conviction in your path. I am sorry for the water and blinker seed; I presumed our first meeting would be much more awkward otherwise."
Chimera's left eye twitched. His muscles tensed, his whole being filled with… something. Shock? Confusion? Anger? Perhaps some, though mostly drowned out by the former. The Bagon racked his mind, recalling more and more what happened on his fateful first days. With every second, his incredulous stare waned, while his hands stammered even more.
"Wait," Chimera blurted out," so… the first time we met, t-the tour guide we got off the island, even meeting Argon?! Was it all planned?"
"Argon was a fortunate happenstance," Binair replied, "though you can rest assured I would have pulled you to the shore had she not been there. The smoke and mirrors are something I regret, but in spite of everything, I hope you can understand why I chose them."
His hands clenched. How? Why?! A faint glow again took to Binair's horns, the desk cupboard behind him starting to open. Everything around Chimera seemed cast into a confusing menagerie. Binair. Himself. The very world before him. The Bagon could have taken a thunderbolt to the chest and not been fazed in the least. Around and around his mind spun, desperately trying to piece together the sounds and sights of the last few months into something correhent.
For some reason or another, Chimera could not help but think of the island that had been his home. The monolithic steamboats he spent every day overseeing that delivered their cargo to the winding railways of Faire. Even the drive from port had put him on an innovation the Bagon of prior thought he'd only see in his dreams. A world so different, yet almost unnervingly similar.
And right before him, the Girafarig who knew exactly that. Chimera shook his head; it was a shot in the dark, but could it be?
"It wasn't the acts of any god or legendies that brought me here, was it?" Chimera asked.
Ever so slightly, Binair pursed his maw. The half second of silence was all Chimera needed. The answer was there. They both knew it. All he had to do was press on.
"If not that, old chum," Binair asked, "then what was it?"
An object levitated out of the cupboard just out of Chimera's sight. The Bagon flinched, though settled seeing Binair's loose posture; he looked more like hiding a christmas present than anything malicious. Shutting his eyes, Chimera was lost in thought. His hands continued to shake, not from a lack of evidence in his theory, but an abundance. He'd been ignorant for way too long.
"It was… man."
An almost imperceivable flick sounded right before him. Right after a faint flash of light invaded his shut vision. A few seconds prior, he thought himself numb to anything new, but that chiptune music… he knew it well.
"You're correct, Mr. Droverson. By the way, the cartridge itself was a little corrupted from the water before I brought you over, but I hope you won't mind a little souvenir."
It levitated down, greeting Chimera's hands with the blue plastic sheen of a DS, looking as new as the day he'd bought it.
"I-I… I don't…"
A single question racked the Bagon's mind. It'd stuck in the back of his mind since the beginning, even after he'd thought the device before him, and everything it stood for gone and drowned. His head craned, looking back up to Binair with a face that asked before his maw had even opened.
"Who are you?"
"Me?" Binair replied. "Right now, I'm a talking giraffe with two heads that can levitate objects with his mind. In days prior, however, I'd say I wasn't unlike the human who fell into that icy lake. Neither of us have time for my life story, but a short synopsis…"
It was only then that Chimera got a good look at the large shelves to the left and right of the desk. Working his way up the jumble of books, there wasn't anything that would surprise him from Binair's persona. A worn novel on the bottom row covering economics. An equally dilapidated guide in the middle covering the inner workings of steam engines. As he squinted, however, the authors emblazoning the many spines seemed vaguely… familiar. What type of pokemon was named Edmund Cartwright?!
"I began as little more than an unassuming librarian among impoverished, metropolitan outskirts. The 'bad neighborhoods' drivers take twenty minute detours to avoid, sandwiched between gunshots and gentrification. Subsisting on canned goods and fast food at the end of each work day, I spent years upon decades having barely a dime to spare at the end of each month, but in the end, I had something far greater."
A shudder of familiarity ran down Chimera's spine. Still, going over distant memories made the prospect of monotonous cubicle walls and 70 hour work weeks seem privileged by comparison. A pang of realization hit him as Binair's horns glowed, and a textbook from the top shelf floated between them. Fine dust lurched off the cover with the psychic flick of its pages opening. From the scratched, brownish tinge of the locomotive design before them, it must have been nearly a century old.
"I-It was knowledge then, wasn't it?" Chimera asked, noting the nearly verbatim design to the car they'd driven not twenty minutes ago.
Binair's smile only grew.
"Centuries of foresight that not a single other pokemon knew when my hooves set on this wonderful region. Enough innovation to relieve centuries of trial and error in Faire's populace with a twenty year golden age."
In hindsight, the Bagon cursed himself. The thought had always nagged just how the Girafarig before him could not only know, but create a world so familiar to his own. It was no secret his boss had a fascination with humans, but this?
"W-wait," Chimera stammered, "but how did I—how did you even get here in the first place?! You'd need more than history novels and isekai magical powers to get to a world where the pixels on this screen breath and talk."
"But I did, old chum," Binair replied. "With an entire lifetime to tinker and test my theories, I'm sure even the decrepit Binair that walked on two feet could agree my wager paid dividends."
The crimson shroud covering the monolithic structure behind Binair fell. Chimera backpedaled, shirking as if staring at a giant. Lumbering brass pistons lurched from the floor to the ceiling at every corner of the hexagon. Bridging the gap between each corner were thick metallic walls, bolted in place with circular windows that seemed more at home in a submarine. Closest to himself was the ovular entrance to the conglomeration, a convex door built like a tank, with a small wheel below the window serving as the doorknob. It was only after a tap from Binair's hoof that Chimera snapped out of his trance.
"The perfect entrance to a new world, and a new body to boot. A chance to indulge in everything my prior life had denied; success, companionship, and bringing prosperity to those I held dear. Sound familiar?"
A strange feeling of intensity brewed in Chimera's chest the longer he stared at the device, compounded tenfold knowing who was at his side. True, between the lake spirits, he was no stranger to beings that had lived more than one lifetime, but… was the fountain of youth really just a few feet away? Had the path to fulfill every aspiration really been based on the half gigabyte cartridge in his hand?
"W-wait," Chimera said, "if this really is the portal that bought you from the human world, what's it doing here?"
"I can assure you, the original in our old world was destroyed decades ago as a precaution against being followed, " Binair replied. "This lovely mechanism, as well as its counterpart currently rusting just below where you had your watery entrance were the product of a somewhat more… creative plan, formed perhaps half a year ago."
Well oiled pistons huffed and puffed, bringing up brief bits of steam in their wake. The door itself lay ajar, and through the window Chimera could see a large copper coil hanging from the top. With every second, blue sparks crackled from its surface. Taking a few steps forward, the Bagon set his hand against the door, staring towards the brass, cramped insides of the mechanism; a portal to another world, and he couldn't decide whether to stare in awe, or slam his head against its surface.
"So… that's it then," Chimera said, leaning forward against the door as the pieces slowly started to come together. "I-It was you who brought me over. You who took me to a world where I have nearly everything I could ever want."
"With neither consent nor warning," Binair added, horns drooping in tandem with his ears. "I admit given the circumstances, it was a somewhat self-centered venture. After irreparably altering your life, and putting on a mask to conceal my stake in it, there is only one thing I can offer that I believe would suit a fitting apology."
Though his hand stayed clenched, Chimera could not find the heart to lash out his anger to the Girafarig behind him. Contemplation replaced furry, as a single word panged through his conscious.
Why?
The answer was right in front of him, yet a steel wall of disbelief stopped the Bagon from saying it. That same cynical tinge shouted back from its burial at the beach. It didn't make sense. It was too good to be true. It couldn't happen to him. In spite of it all, however, what he couldn't deny was that from the device that had been the key to both his entrance, and the Girafarig behind, was the one trait they both shared. The explanation was right there, with more force than a Rampardos' headbutt could hope to match.
"I-I've been training with you and the guild from almost day one," Chimera whispered. "You took me in, gave me all the opportunities leading that I could ever need. A revolution comes to our doorstep, you show me the pleasant little condo you plan on retiring to, a-and after everything, I think I've realized… you wouldn't trust leading the guild to any pokemon, would you?"
A beat of silence, while Chimera cringed waiting for a rebuke. What made him deserving of this?
"You've figured it out, old chum," Binair replied, his own elation already bursting forth. "I have no doubt of the guild's competence, but for the legacy of the largest institution of Faire to carry on past my time, I knew it would need a certain… human touch to it."
The Girafarig's words were enough to knock Chimera off his feet. He lurched forward, gasping as his forehead slammed against the steel door, slamming it closed. The faint pain of hitting the floor fell on deaf scales. It couldn't be. It was impossible. He was in an especially severe coma. Any minute now, he'd wake up in a cold sweet with a nurse telling him seventy years had passed while flying cars soared past the window.
Somehow, Chimera cackled. A strange, foreign cackle of a 404 error of the mind. Just a few months ago, he'd been less than nothing. A depressed, down on his luck wage slave grasping for a future that couldn't be. Now it was right there. Right in front of—
"ATTENTION! TRANSFER CHAMBER HAS BEEN SEALED. COILS CHARGING. TRANSFER WILL BEGIN SHORTLY."
The robotic speaker briefly shot Chimera from his delirium. More than a few swears left Binair's breath, before he let out a long sigh.
"Apologies, old chum. The device can be a bit finicky, but I hope our old world enjoys the empty air we're sending them. In any case, I think we have something to discuss."
Chimera gave a wordless nod, turning to face Binair. It was all on autopilot now. Ever more electronic crackles sounded behind him through metal walls. Binair's smile, while doubtless full of pride, held a more serious tinge than its bright-eyed beginning.
"Y-you mean—"
"Yes," Binair replied. "Every resource, coin, and faculty of the West Faire Guild shall be placed in your capable hands. It comes with only one condition, old chum. One final test that I have no doubt you'll stand tall against as you always have. Given current events, I presume you know what."
A hasty 'no I don't' stopped just short of leaving Chimera's open maw. The shock and elation that coursed through his being pounded against a sudden tinge of dread up his spine. The answer went unsaid, but not unknown to either. There was only one sole event that had dominated his attention until now.
The brown eyes staring back at Binair went wide open. For long, he'd stood as a bystander. A willfully ignorant Bagon hoping it would all sort itself out. Something in his chest sunk.
"The… the pallids? The revolution?"
"Correct," Binair replied, his own eyes sharpening. "I give this to you as my final request; stop this revolution, so the pokemon of Faire may enjoy the prosperity and stability that they always have. Do this, and the culmination of my, and thousands of other pokemon's efforts on this wondrous island shall be yours."
The die had been cast. The beginnings of a migraine shuddered though Chimera's mind as his thoughts went to war. Everything he could ever need, everything he could ever want was right before him. A legacy ripe for the taking. A future assured once thought lost among the clouds. And yet…
They were out there. Raichu and Charmander. Pokemon he'd only known for perhaps a few months, yet their voices rang as clear through his conscious as if it'd been a lifetime. Even with decent enough justification from an impaled Zorua, by reporting the revolution, he'd gone against their efforts. It was a Bagon who had lit the spark, and now it was his responsibility to stomp out the fire burning through Faire. Against burning ambition, who would get caught in its flames?
"I-I… I understand, Sir," Chimera finally stammered out. "But how are we going to? We've got probably minutes until they're at the guild's doorstep. E-Even with all the soldiers in the world, I'm not sure I can do that without a river of blood."
"A fair point, old chum," Binair replied. "But we must remember that throughout the course of history, very few revolutions stand the test of time."
It seemed that Binair's penchant for secret doors had not faded. A psychic flick of a distant switch, and the brief floorspace between Bagon and Girafarig retracted. It was only looking down that Chimera broke through his revelation to remember why they were there; in a cubby no more than a few feet across, was the familiar azure glow of a time gear. It spun seemingly of its own fruition, with a metallic axle running through its center. Two more axles jutted out in a line, as if begging for the artifacts that until now seemed of no more use than a dead battery.
"After all, I don't think you assumed I sent you through raging waves and chilling mountains all for a new hood ornament," Binair said, giving a lighthearted clomp to the gear's surface. "The research and development division has been very busy with your recent discoveries. A quick inquiry… what is your knowledge of these artifacts?"
They had their own pixel art and a theme song that jingled clear from his memory, but something told Chimera that was less relevant. The Bagon stood in silence, lost in the azure glow of the rotating gear as if it were a metronome.
"Well, from what Eoin told me when he had his lake spirit seminar, they're tools that keep the flow of time in order. Three lake spirits protect—protected them, and they're fueled by the beings of pallids that get remade every time a dungeon resets."
"All true, old chum," Binair replied. "What interests us most in this time of need is a mechanism the gods emplaced, that should save the West Faire Guild just as it saved your team on that mountain."
Recalling the cursory details was like jogging his brain on a test for material crammed the day before, but at Binair's words a memory panged all too quickly. The seething crunch before horrific pain from a Rampardos' skull. The distant numbness of being shocked back to consciousness by his companion. And, directly after that…
He'd seen that same face in more than a few dreams. The feral, malicious snarl of a Rampardos frozen just inches from the killing blow.
"I-I didn't know it at the time," Chimera said, hugging himself as a shudder coursed through his being, "but when the time gear was removed, it sucked up the souls from every pallid in the mountain. Was like time had frozen for them when we walked."
His head raised, rocky forehead smashing the metaphorical lightbulb that had appeared above. Binair's nod was all he needed. All this time, had he really thought the key to all of this no more useful than an especially large nightlight?
"But… but we saw that it only really works in the mystery dungeon the gear is from, Sir," Chimera continued. "How could we use it here?"
"What neither the lake spirits nor Eoin told you, old chum," Binair replied, "is that the time gears have a habit of amplification to them. In their former isolation, the range of the freezing effect extends no larger than their mystery dungeon's perimeter. But when two are conjoined, the pulse is increased, and at three—"
There was a resounding clang as Binair's hoof slammed next to the rotating time gear. It was only then that Chimera noticed the small analogue meter mounted beside the three axles, and the large button at its side.
"—It can be controlled."
Not a word needed to be said to show the gravity of what laid before them. Chimera clutched the bag at his side, the gears to what would freeze the fire overtaking Faire.
"Y-you mean—"
"We bring that third time gear here, old chum," Binair replied, "and every single pallid across Faire will be suspended where they stand. The revolution will end, the pallids will be returned whence they came, and the pokemon of Faire will breathe happily under the capable leadership of their newest guildmaster. I'll be sure to invite you to some beachside cookouts in the Idyll."
In the disarrayed battlefield of Chimera's mind, something shifted. His claws dug into the time gear, blinking again and again as the barrage of questions over the 'why' of the plan were routed. All that mattered now, was the execution; fortune favored the bold.
"I understand, Sir. I'm just… a bit worried is all. Cerise gave me her time gear, but we'd need years to scour all of Faire for the third. We have minutes."
"I can only put my faith in you to expedite attaining the time gear," Binair replied. "But if you could install the one my daughter gifted, finding the third should be a relatively simple affair."
Wordlessly, Chimera complied, tilting his head as he got another good view of the compartment. The gear already in place spun slow but steady, all the while the needle of the meter above jittered as if showing an engine one third's full. His own hands were no less steady taking hold of the time gear, and placing it just over the axle.
"All set, Sir. If you don't mind me saying, I'm not sure how this'll give us an X marks the spot."
"A bit more mental arithmetic is required," Binair replied, tapping his hoof against the glass meter, "but it should be no less simple. This dial will work wonders telling the exact range of the time gear's effect. As it amplifies as the gears are brought closer, and we already know two of three are conjoined like an old married couple, cross referencing the range reading we get should tell us how far the third gear is. Straightforward enough?"
The vast majority of the Bagon's work with numbers usually had far more dollar signs, but he nodded nonetheless. The pull of the axle grew ever more powerful as he inched the gear closer, tugging at his hands until nearly ripping the gear from his grip. There was a loud ting once the axle slid through, and the spokes of the artifacts both Mespirit and Azelf guarded were aligned. Blue sparks crackled from their surface, spinning the gears faster and faster. Binair watched unflinchingly, eyes glued to the needle slamming back and forth from zero to full. A stray spark cracked against Chimera's scales, sending the Bagon back.
Once the static had cleared, and Chimera was rubbing his scales muttering every curse under the sun, it was hard to tell who was more bewildered. Binair blinked, staring at the meter in one of the few moments Chimera had seen his poise falter. The meter itself had settled, only a sliver or two past the two-thirds mark.
"Sir?"
"...Curious."
Both the front and back of the Girafarig furrowed their brow, lost in thought. Biting his lip, Binair tapped the meter, as if the needle would suddenly jolt to something a bit more comforting.
"Either the artifacts are not as powerful as the best of the guild's calculations, or something has gone wrong," Binair mused. "Even if the gear was at the far end of East Faire, there should be more. Scouts have already checked any other stray islands. If it's not here, then where could it—"
It was Binair's turn for his eyes to shoot wide. Chimera shuffled back, his own mind well at work. If it wasn't anywhere he could walk on either East or West Faire, then the time gear was either at the bottom of the ocean, or…
"It's down," Binair whispered
The Girafarig's eyes trained to the floor. Chimera's tongue stumbled to object, the imagery of a familiar office fading away to an undersea cavern washing over his sight.
"One of West Faire's few underground caves, that's the only option," Binair continued, getting faster by the second. "There's only a few even known, less so suited to house a time gear. I can get to work cross referencing the distance with likely locations. It shouldn't take more than… than…"
A pause, with a look at Chimera like a player called to the field. The Bagon didn't say a word as his own scales tensed; he could hear it too. Even where they were, in an isolated bunker well under the dirt, Girafarig and Bagon could catch the vague sounds of… chanting?
Chimera froze, as if deep under his blue tinge was a being that the time gears could chill. There was only one group who numbered enough for their song to be heard even there. With a turn to the elevator, Binair glanced back.
"Well old chum, it seems you're up. There are names the pokemon of Faire will never know. Henry Ford. John D. Rockefeller. Tonight however, we make history."
"You called, Sir?"
Binair gave a soft hum in response. The breeze was calm. Soothing rays of sunshine flushed between clouds over the roof of the West Faire Guild Hall, and yet Chimera could not get rid of the aching tension in his chest. To run out and prepare the troops for the inevitable march. To find some way to get through the hours to come knowing he'd done everything to preserve life and limb. To throw himself off of the nearby ledge. To do… something.
"Care to enjoy the view, old chum?" Binair asked, levitating a brass set of binoculars to his eyes from a nearby patio table. "I admit it could be a little better on a day like this, but all we can do is employ the hand we're dealt."
Taking his place at Binair's side (on top of a hollow milk crate so he could see over the railing), Chimera needed no clarification. Just a few miles away, pouring out of the dozens of ships nestling against the docks of Pith Town Harbor, were the grey outlines of hundreds upon thousands of pallids. They'd be at their doorstep within the hour. Their hue the same as the being who had supported him through high cliffs and frigid winds, yet also those responsible for the Zorua hooked up to an IV a floor or so below.
"W-what's our plan of action, Sir?" Chimera asked. "Barricades? Let them straight to the guild hall? This isn't gonna go away easy, one way or another. They've had months to plan out every step."
"I've a somewhat more… encompassing strategy that I wish to share with you," Binair replied. "Though, I sincerely wished it hadn't come to this. Before that business, however, I wish to offer an apology."
Binair turned, unable to hide the tinge of remorse leftover from the family reunion. From the distinct, perturbed tapping of his hooves, Chimera could tell his superior was not used to apologies, yet he owned them well.
"For what, Sir?"
"For my lies of omission since the past few months," Binair replied, grinding his hoof to the marble floor. "With minor exceptions, of which you've owned up to, you've served valiantly in the best interests of myself, and the guild at large ever since we played that first game of hoops. And yet, I've held knowledge of that gear at your side and more, yet played the ignorant fool."
Chimera's eyes widened, the glowing paperweight in his bag suddenly feeling heavier. Scratching his neck, Chimera looked to its ambient hue, less able to meet Binair's gaze.
"I've known you like to keep things close to the chest for a while now, Sir," Chimera said back. "Just trying to repay someone who's done more than I could ever ask for, and is by far the best boss I've ever had. Y-you… Sir… you've always seemed a bit partial towards me."
Binair bit his tongue, though neither of the Giragarig's mouths offered a denial. Chimera fiddled with his hands in response; there were a million ways to say this, what was the right one?
"The secret missions. The promotions. T-the personal office with my own secretary!" Chimera continued, forcing a smile to Binair. "I've… I've been your 'old chum' since the beginning, and yet I've never known why. N-not that I mind. Quite the opposite! It's just... "
Binair nodded; he need not finish. A sharp breeze whirled as the two stood in silence. With all the comfort of a bomb defuser, Chimera looked to the ledge. If it were not for the impending flood of pallids, or the badge that stared back at him, he was half a mind to jump off right then and there. What greeted him looking up, however, was a tepid smile from Binair.
"Well, your impeccable work ethic and leadership skills certainly helped, but I admit there's been another reason I've held you in high favor. Perhaps a quick field trip could kill two birds with one stone?"
The Girafarig turned before Chimera could offer a rebuttal. There was something mischievous in the tail that stared back at him. A bit more than usual.
"Should be a rather uplifting endeavor," Binair continued. "Please don't panic, old chum."
Chimera's maw was open mid objection as everything around the Bagon's scales started to feel… a bit different. A familiar pink aura had coalesced around his body, pushing against his movements as if he were moving in molasses. What followed was a feeling of weightlessness, as if lighter than air. The faint smile that returned to his maw was all too corroborating.
"S-sir?!"
The Bagon was a full foot off the milk crate before hearing a soft clunk. He let out another gasp, just a tad lighter than from the impromptu levitation, seeing what was the tipped over bottom of the crate flip open. Underneath was a small keypad, not unlike what he'd seen in the more secure areas of his prior life. Curiously, the keys seemed far too small for any fine motor function from Binair's hooves, but a psychic press did the job just as well.
"Y-you," Chimera stammered, chuckling a bit as he met the Girafarig's grin. "You could have just told me to move."
"And not grant my Bagon companion his ultimate aspiration?" Binair replied. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. Please try and commit the code to memory, old chum; can't afford any mistakes for what's ahead."
A soft mechanical wir sounded below their feet from the final key press. With a faint rumble, the very marble beneath their feet began to move , retracting to form an empty chamber perhaps big enough to fit a snorlax in. It had a sparse carpet lining, with a panel on one side holding two buttons with arrows up and down. Chimera couldn't help but give an approving nod to no one in particular; how many other jobs had secret doors?
"Well," Chimera asked, "going down?"
They couldn't have been in the somewhat cramped elevator for over a minute, but Chimera had forgotten how long moments like these could last. A soft jingle played from a hidden speaker as Bagon and Girafarig stared ahead. One second passed, followed by another, followed by another still…
"So…" Chimera mused.
"So," came the reply.
"Ever had a problem with that tail of yours nipping people?"
One blink, then two.
"What? Oh, not usually. Had my back to a Mawile once when it got a bit too competitive. Cerise used to play a game in her early youth seeing how close she could get without it striking. I'll do my best to have my front to her now more often than my ba— ah, here we are."
The bunker seemed as peculiar from what Chimera saw as what he couldn't. From the concrete flooring, to the corrugated steel roof, to what had to be dozens of paper frappuccino cups haphazardly tossed into a corner waste bin, it seemed to combine the aspects of a doomsday shelter and disheveled personal office. The elephant in the room was a large, hexagonal structure on the far end. A sizable green tarp covered every bit, as well as towering boxes and shelves at either side. If Chimera listened closely, he could hear a faint electronic hum.
"Please don't mind the mess, old chum. Secrecy has… prevented the cleaning crew from covering for my usual dishevelment. If you wouldn't mind, I would like to show you a little something."
A wide desk not unlike what Chimera had seen in Binair's personal office was nestled against one of the walls. In place of the Girafarig's usual papers and folders were a menagerie of meters, testing tools, even what looked like a soldering iron. Beside a propped up photo of Girafarig and Zorua in the corner, levitated what Chimera could only describe as a model house.
"What's that, Sir?" Chimera asked, a modest smile soothing his worries. "A house for Durants?"
"Joltik, if you were lucky," Binair replied. "Though… not unlike the real deal. You'll find the much larger variant in a wonderfully quaint neighborhood called 'The Idyll of Faire'. Perhaps an hour's drive from here along the coast."
It was only once it was floating between them that the clay shingle roof, yellow stucco walls and palm tree decorations of the modest structure were clear to see. One of Binair's hooves nestled against the roof, a certain softness taking to the Girafarig's features as the house rotated.
"Looks like a nice little sanctuary, though… I don't think it's here because you got into scenic modeling," Chimera said.
"Correct," Binair replied. "I should take you there sometime, old chum. My former secretary settled down a year back and made chocolate chip cookies to die for when I visited. In truth, though… if everything goes to plan, it won't be more than a week before this humble abode is my home. Well, the home of a family."
Chimera's once leisurely eyes shot open at the connotation. The Bagon blinked, and blinked once more; the two bedroom, condo sized replica suddenly took up a whole new meeting. There was a certain sense of pride in Binair's stance as he smiled back at Chimera. More pride than any new factory, guild hall, or farm could put in the Girafarig.
"R-really, Sir?" Chimera asked. "I-I mean, I understand, but… I never expected this from you. Will Cerise be alright with it?"
"I can only hope. I plan to bring things up to her once she's fully recovered, and this dark business is over," Binair replied. "There's a new amphitheatre nearby I finished overseeing last week, as well as some security agencies that will pay clean coin to have an experienced thief test their business model. With any luck, the perfect place for a new beginning… a new chance to right my wrongs."
A Girafarig who owned an office bigger than the entire house, a Girafarig that Chimera could scarcely see not instructing, organizing, or otherwise working for the opulent building above their heads. True, in hindsight he should have seen this coming someday, but this soon?!
"Wait," Chimera stammered, "how are you going to oversee the—what's gonna happen if you can't oversee the guild? I-I want this as much as you, Sir, but I've been around long enough to know that it'll decline without you."
The silence lasted a little too long for Chimera's liking. And yet, there was not a single break in Binair's demeanor, not one indication that the walls around them would crumble if the Girafarig packed his bags and left the very next day. There was only a single deep breath. Binair cleared his throat, gazing down to Chimera; if they were playing poker, Chimera would guess he'd been stacking his cards for a while.
"I believe this brings us back to your original question, old chum. A quick trip down memory lane if you wouldn't mind: What exactly happened, when you first arrived in this world?"
Chimera closed his eyes, rubbing a stubby hand just barely against the start of his rocky forehead. It had felt like… ages ago, and yet, the monotony of yesterday's Chimera seemed only brief flashes in comparison.
"Well… I met Argon, of course. We got to talking, I found out I was a three foot tall lizard with blue scales. Did my first cliff jump, she agreed to let me join the guild as her team member. Met you and had that first game of—"
"Apologies, but before that," Binair said. "The very beginning."
The stubby hand moved from Chimera's forehead, while the mind underneath worked to parse the Girafarig's meaning.
"I remember mostly that I was in the water," Chimera continued. "Couldn't see a damn thing because a blinker seed got in my mouth. After getting to the surface, I-I… I think I heard a voice. Damn, what did it say?"
The hand moved to his chin. It was like paddling against the waves even trying to remember the words. The Bagon cringed, desperately trying to find a voice matching the scenery filling his black vision.
"'I apologize for the shock'," Chimera recited, "but for this whole endeavor to work, for me to ever get to see—"
All at once, it hit him. Chimera's heart skipped a beat. His hands trembled against his scales. It… it couldn't be. How could—
"—Her again, my identity must be kept a secret. I hope you understand."
Opening his eyes, Chimera couldn't tell whether they were more in disbelief than his ears. Before him stood Binair, his smirk hidden by a large speaker levitated from the desk to his maw. The synthetic voice was unmistakable.
"I will say, old chum," Binair said, speaker falling to the floor, "you certainly made true on my request to show conviction in your path. I am sorry for the water and blinker seed; I presumed our first meeting would be much more awkward otherwise."
Chimera's left eye twitched. His muscles tensed, his whole being filled with… something. Shock? Confusion? Anger? Perhaps some, though mostly drowned out by the former. The Bagon racked his mind, recalling more and more what happened on his fateful first days. With every second, his incredulous stare waned, while his hands stammered even more.
"Wait," Chimera blurted out," so… the first time we met, t-the tour guide we got off the island, even meeting Argon?! Was it all planned?"
"Argon was a fortunate happenstance," Binair replied, "though you can rest assured I would have pulled you to the shore had she not been there. The smoke and mirrors are something I regret, but in spite of everything, I hope you can understand why I chose them."
His hands clenched. How? Why?! A faint glow again took to Binair's horns, the desk cupboard behind him starting to open. Everything around Chimera seemed cast into a confusing menagerie. Binair. Himself. The very world before him. The Bagon could have taken a thunderbolt to the chest and not been fazed in the least. Around and around his mind spun, desperately trying to piece together the sounds and sights of the last few months into something correhent.
For some reason or another, Chimera could not help but think of the island that had been his home. The monolithic steamboats he spent every day overseeing that delivered their cargo to the winding railways of Faire. Even the drive from port had put him on an innovation the Bagon of prior thought he'd only see in his dreams. A world so different, yet almost unnervingly similar.
And right before him, the Girafarig who knew exactly that. Chimera shook his head; it was a shot in the dark, but could it be?
"It wasn't the acts of any god or legendies that brought me here, was it?" Chimera asked.
Ever so slightly, Binair pursed his maw. The half second of silence was all Chimera needed. The answer was there. They both knew it. All he had to do was press on.
"If not that, old chum," Binair asked, "then what was it?"
An object levitated out of the cupboard just out of Chimera's sight. The Bagon flinched, though settled seeing Binair's loose posture; he looked more like hiding a christmas present than anything malicious. Shutting his eyes, Chimera was lost in thought. His hands continued to shake, not from a lack of evidence in his theory, but an abundance. He'd been ignorant for way too long.
"It was… man."
An almost imperceivable flick sounded right before him. Right after a faint flash of light invaded his shut vision. A few seconds prior, he thought himself numb to anything new, but that chiptune music… he knew it well.
"You're correct, Mr. Droverson. By the way, the cartridge itself was a little corrupted from the water before I brought you over, but I hope you won't mind a little souvenir."
It levitated down, greeting Chimera's hands with the blue plastic sheen of a DS, looking as new as the day he'd bought it.
"I-I… I don't…"
A single question racked the Bagon's mind. It'd stuck in the back of his mind since the beginning, even after he'd thought the device before him, and everything it stood for gone and drowned. His head craned, looking back up to Binair with a face that asked before his maw had even opened.
"Who are you?"
"Me?" Binair replied. "Right now, I'm a talking giraffe with two heads that can levitate objects with his mind. In days prior, however, I'd say I wasn't unlike the human who fell into that icy lake. Neither of us have time for my life story, but a short synopsis…"
It was only then that Chimera got a good look at the large shelves to the left and right of the desk. Working his way up the jumble of books, there wasn't anything that would surprise him from Binair's persona. A worn novel on the bottom row covering economics. An equally dilapidated guide in the middle covering the inner workings of steam engines. As he squinted, however, the authors emblazoning the many spines seemed vaguely… familiar. What type of pokemon was named Edmund Cartwright?!
"I began as little more than an unassuming librarian among impoverished, metropolitan outskirts. The 'bad neighborhoods' drivers take twenty minute detours to avoid, sandwiched between gunshots and gentrification. Subsisting on canned goods and fast food at the end of each work day, I spent years upon decades having barely a dime to spare at the end of each month, but in the end, I had something far greater."
A shudder of familiarity ran down Chimera's spine. Still, going over distant memories made the prospect of monotonous cubicle walls and 70 hour work weeks seem privileged by comparison. A pang of realization hit him as Binair's horns glowed, and a textbook from the top shelf floated between them. Fine dust lurched off the cover with the psychic flick of its pages opening. From the scratched, brownish tinge of the locomotive design before them, it must have been nearly a century old.
"I-It was knowledge then, wasn't it?" Chimera asked, noting the nearly verbatim design to the car they'd driven not twenty minutes ago.
Binair's smile only grew.
"Centuries of foresight that not a single other pokemon knew when my hooves set on this wonderful region. Enough innovation to relieve centuries of trial and error in Faire's populace with a twenty year golden age."
In hindsight, the Bagon cursed himself. The thought had always nagged just how the Girafarig before him could not only know, but create a world so familiar to his own. It was no secret his boss had a fascination with humans, but this?
"W-wait," Chimera stammered, "but how did I—how did you even get here in the first place?! You'd need more than history novels and isekai magical powers to get to a world where the pixels on this screen breath and talk."
"But I did, old chum," Binair replied. "With an entire lifetime to tinker and test my theories, I'm sure even the decrepit Binair that walked on two feet could agree my wager paid dividends."
The crimson shroud covering the monolithic structure behind Binair fell. Chimera backpedaled, shirking as if staring at a giant. Lumbering brass pistons lurched from the floor to the ceiling at every corner of the hexagon. Bridging the gap between each corner were thick metallic walls, bolted in place with circular windows that seemed more at home in a submarine. Closest to himself was the ovular entrance to the conglomeration, a convex door built like a tank, with a small wheel below the window serving as the doorknob. It was only after a tap from Binair's hoof that Chimera snapped out of his trance.
"The perfect entrance to a new world, and a new body to boot. A chance to indulge in everything my prior life had denied; success, companionship, and bringing prosperity to those I held dear. Sound familiar?"
A strange feeling of intensity brewed in Chimera's chest the longer he stared at the device, compounded tenfold knowing who was at his side. True, between the lake spirits, he was no stranger to beings that had lived more than one lifetime, but… was the fountain of youth really just a few feet away? Had the path to fulfill every aspiration really been based on the half gigabyte cartridge in his hand?
"W-wait," Chimera said, "if this really is the portal that bought you from the human world, what's it doing here?"
"I can assure you, the original in our old world was destroyed decades ago as a precaution against being followed, " Binair replied. "This lovely mechanism, as well as its counterpart currently rusting just below where you had your watery entrance were the product of a somewhat more… creative plan, formed perhaps half a year ago."
Well oiled pistons huffed and puffed, bringing up brief bits of steam in their wake. The door itself lay ajar, and through the window Chimera could see a large copper coil hanging from the top. With every second, blue sparks crackled from its surface. Taking a few steps forward, the Bagon set his hand against the door, staring towards the brass, cramped insides of the mechanism; a portal to another world, and he couldn't decide whether to stare in awe, or slam his head against its surface.
"So… that's it then," Chimera said, leaning forward against the door as the pieces slowly started to come together. "I-It was you who brought me over. You who took me to a world where I have nearly everything I could ever want."
"With neither consent nor warning," Binair added, horns drooping in tandem with his ears. "I admit given the circumstances, it was a somewhat self-centered venture. After irreparably altering your life, and putting on a mask to conceal my stake in it, there is only one thing I can offer that I believe would suit a fitting apology."
Though his hand stayed clenched, Chimera could not find the heart to lash out his anger to the Girafarig behind him. Contemplation replaced furry, as a single word panged through his conscious.
Why?
The answer was right in front of him, yet a steel wall of disbelief stopped the Bagon from saying it. That same cynical tinge shouted back from its burial at the beach. It didn't make sense. It was too good to be true. It couldn't happen to him. In spite of it all, however, what he couldn't deny was that from the device that had been the key to both his entrance, and the Girafarig behind, was the one trait they both shared. The explanation was right there, with more force than a Rampardos' headbutt could hope to match.
"I-I've been training with you and the guild from almost day one," Chimera whispered. "You took me in, gave me all the opportunities leading that I could ever need. A revolution comes to our doorstep, you show me the pleasant little condo you plan on retiring to, a-and after everything, I think I've realized… you wouldn't trust leading the guild to any pokemon, would you?"
A beat of silence, while Chimera cringed waiting for a rebuke. What made him deserving of this?
"You've figured it out, old chum," Binair replied, his own elation already bursting forth. "I have no doubt of the guild's competence, but for the legacy of the largest institution of Faire to carry on past my time, I knew it would need a certain… human touch to it."
The Girafarig's words were enough to knock Chimera off his feet. He lurched forward, gasping as his forehead slammed against the steel door, slamming it closed. The faint pain of hitting the floor fell on deaf scales. It couldn't be. It was impossible. He was in an especially severe coma. Any minute now, he'd wake up in a cold sweet with a nurse telling him seventy years had passed while flying cars soared past the window.
Somehow, Chimera cackled. A strange, foreign cackle of a 404 error of the mind. Just a few months ago, he'd been less than nothing. A depressed, down on his luck wage slave grasping for a future that couldn't be. Now it was right there. Right in front of—
"ATTENTION! TRANSFER CHAMBER HAS BEEN SEALED. COILS CHARGING. TRANSFER WILL BEGIN SHORTLY."
The robotic speaker briefly shot Chimera from his delirium. More than a few swears left Binair's breath, before he let out a long sigh.
"Apologies, old chum. The device can be a bit finicky, but I hope our old world enjoys the empty air we're sending them. In any case, I think we have something to discuss."
Chimera gave a wordless nod, turning to face Binair. It was all on autopilot now. Ever more electronic crackles sounded behind him through metal walls. Binair's smile, while doubtless full of pride, held a more serious tinge than its bright-eyed beginning.
"Y-you mean—"
"Yes," Binair replied. "Every resource, coin, and faculty of the West Faire Guild shall be placed in your capable hands. It comes with only one condition, old chum. One final test that I have no doubt you'll stand tall against as you always have. Given current events, I presume you know what."
A hasty 'no I don't' stopped just short of leaving Chimera's open maw. The shock and elation that coursed through his being pounded against a sudden tinge of dread up his spine. The answer went unsaid, but not unknown to either. There was only one sole event that had dominated his attention until now.
The brown eyes staring back at Binair went wide open. For long, he'd stood as a bystander. A willfully ignorant Bagon hoping it would all sort itself out. Something in his chest sunk.
"The… the pallids? The revolution?"
"Correct," Binair replied, his own eyes sharpening. "I give this to you as my final request; stop this revolution, so the pokemon of Faire may enjoy the prosperity and stability that they always have. Do this, and the culmination of my, and thousands of other pokemon's efforts on this wondrous island shall be yours."
The die had been cast. The beginnings of a migraine shuddered though Chimera's mind as his thoughts went to war. Everything he could ever need, everything he could ever want was right before him. A legacy ripe for the taking. A future assured once thought lost among the clouds. And yet…
They were out there. Raichu and Charmander. Pokemon he'd only known for perhaps a few months, yet their voices rang as clear through his conscious as if it'd been a lifetime. Even with decent enough justification from an impaled Zorua, by reporting the revolution, he'd gone against their efforts. It was a Bagon who had lit the spark, and now it was his responsibility to stomp out the fire burning through Faire. Against burning ambition, who would get caught in its flames?
"I-I… I understand, Sir," Chimera finally stammered out. "But how are we going to? We've got probably minutes until they're at the guild's doorstep. E-Even with all the soldiers in the world, I'm not sure I can do that without a river of blood."
"A fair point, old chum," Binair replied. "But we must remember that throughout the course of history, very few revolutions stand the test of time."
It seemed that Binair's penchant for secret doors had not faded. A psychic flick of a distant switch, and the brief floorspace between Bagon and Girafarig retracted. It was only looking down that Chimera broke through his revelation to remember why they were there; in a cubby no more than a few feet across, was the familiar azure glow of a time gear. It spun seemingly of its own fruition, with a metallic axle running through its center. Two more axles jutted out in a line, as if begging for the artifacts that until now seemed of no more use than a dead battery.
"After all, I don't think you assumed I sent you through raging waves and chilling mountains all for a new hood ornament," Binair said, giving a lighthearted clomp to the gear's surface. "The research and development division has been very busy with your recent discoveries. A quick inquiry… what is your knowledge of these artifacts?"
They had their own pixel art and a theme song that jingled clear from his memory, but something told Chimera that was less relevant. The Bagon stood in silence, lost in the azure glow of the rotating gear as if it were a metronome.
"Well, from what Eoin told me when he had his lake spirit seminar, they're tools that keep the flow of time in order. Three lake spirits protect—protected them, and they're fueled by the beings of pallids that get remade every time a dungeon resets."
"All true, old chum," Binair replied. "What interests us most in this time of need is a mechanism the gods emplaced, that should save the West Faire Guild just as it saved your team on that mountain."
Recalling the cursory details was like jogging his brain on a test for material crammed the day before, but at Binair's words a memory panged all too quickly. The seething crunch before horrific pain from a Rampardos' skull. The distant numbness of being shocked back to consciousness by his companion. And, directly after that…
He'd seen that same face in more than a few dreams. The feral, malicious snarl of a Rampardos frozen just inches from the killing blow.
"I-I didn't know it at the time," Chimera said, hugging himself as a shudder coursed through his being, "but when the time gear was removed, it sucked up the souls from every pallid in the mountain. Was like time had frozen for them when we walked."
His head raised, rocky forehead smashing the metaphorical lightbulb that had appeared above. Binair's nod was all he needed. All this time, had he really thought the key to all of this no more useful than an especially large nightlight?
"But… but we saw that it only really works in the mystery dungeon the gear is from, Sir," Chimera continued. "How could we use it here?"
"What neither the lake spirits nor Eoin told you, old chum," Binair replied, "is that the time gears have a habit of amplification to them. In their former isolation, the range of the freezing effect extends no larger than their mystery dungeon's perimeter. But when two are conjoined, the pulse is increased, and at three—"
There was a resounding clang as Binair's hoof slammed next to the rotating time gear. It was only then that Chimera noticed the small analogue meter mounted beside the three axles, and the large button at its side.
"—It can be controlled."
Not a word needed to be said to show the gravity of what laid before them. Chimera clutched the bag at his side, the gears to what would freeze the fire overtaking Faire.
"Y-you mean—"
"We bring that third time gear here, old chum," Binair replied, "and every single pallid across Faire will be suspended where they stand. The revolution will end, the pallids will be returned whence they came, and the pokemon of Faire will breathe happily under the capable leadership of their newest guildmaster. I'll be sure to invite you to some beachside cookouts in the Idyll."
In the disarrayed battlefield of Chimera's mind, something shifted. His claws dug into the time gear, blinking again and again as the barrage of questions over the 'why' of the plan were routed. All that mattered now, was the execution; fortune favored the bold.
"I understand, Sir. I'm just… a bit worried is all. Cerise gave me her time gear, but we'd need years to scour all of Faire for the third. We have minutes."
"I can only put my faith in you to expedite attaining the time gear," Binair replied. "But if you could install the one my daughter gifted, finding the third should be a relatively simple affair."
Wordlessly, Chimera complied, tilting his head as he got another good view of the compartment. The gear already in place spun slow but steady, all the while the needle of the meter above jittered as if showing an engine one third's full. His own hands were no less steady taking hold of the time gear, and placing it just over the axle.
"All set, Sir. If you don't mind me saying, I'm not sure how this'll give us an X marks the spot."
"A bit more mental arithmetic is required," Binair replied, tapping his hoof against the glass meter, "but it should be no less simple. This dial will work wonders telling the exact range of the time gear's effect. As it amplifies as the gears are brought closer, and we already know two of three are conjoined like an old married couple, cross referencing the range reading we get should tell us how far the third gear is. Straightforward enough?"
The vast majority of the Bagon's work with numbers usually had far more dollar signs, but he nodded nonetheless. The pull of the axle grew ever more powerful as he inched the gear closer, tugging at his hands until nearly ripping the gear from his grip. There was a loud ting once the axle slid through, and the spokes of the artifacts both Mespirit and Azelf guarded were aligned. Blue sparks crackled from their surface, spinning the gears faster and faster. Binair watched unflinchingly, eyes glued to the needle slamming back and forth from zero to full. A stray spark cracked against Chimera's scales, sending the Bagon back.
Once the static had cleared, and Chimera was rubbing his scales muttering every curse under the sun, it was hard to tell who was more bewildered. Binair blinked, staring at the meter in one of the few moments Chimera had seen his poise falter. The meter itself had settled, only a sliver or two past the two-thirds mark.
"Sir?"
"...Curious."
Both the front and back of the Girafarig furrowed their brow, lost in thought. Biting his lip, Binair tapped the meter, as if the needle would suddenly jolt to something a bit more comforting.
"Either the artifacts are not as powerful as the best of the guild's calculations, or something has gone wrong," Binair mused. "Even if the gear was at the far end of East Faire, there should be more. Scouts have already checked any other stray islands. If it's not here, then where could it—"
It was Binair's turn for his eyes to shoot wide. Chimera shuffled back, his own mind well at work. If it wasn't anywhere he could walk on either East or West Faire, then the time gear was either at the bottom of the ocean, or…
"It's down," Binair whispered
The Girafarig's eyes trained to the floor. Chimera's tongue stumbled to object, the imagery of a familiar office fading away to an undersea cavern washing over his sight.
"One of West Faire's few underground caves, that's the only option," Binair continued, getting faster by the second. "There's only a few even known, less so suited to house a time gear. I can get to work cross referencing the distance with likely locations. It shouldn't take more than… than…"
A pause, with a look at Chimera like a player called to the field. The Bagon didn't say a word as his own scales tensed; he could hear it too. Even where they were, in an isolated bunker well under the dirt, Girafarig and Bagon could catch the vague sounds of… chanting?
Chimera froze, as if deep under his blue tinge was a being that the time gears could chill. There was only one group who numbered enough for their song to be heard even there. With a turn to the elevator, Binair glanced back.
"Well old chum, it seems you're up. There are names the pokemon of Faire will never know. Henry Ford. John D. Rockefeller. Tonight however, we make history."