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[Loyal Three Battle Tribute]

Though Amaranth heard the gasps and calls about the foolish choice she was making, she didn't back down from her decision. She was hoping to make a spectacle of her charge, something worthy of the tribute and a performance she was sure Grimmsnarl eould enjoy too. The pleas of the elders meant nothing, and she knew it was a little reckless if things didn't go quite right. But this was art, and the rest of the crowd was absolutely eating it up.

Gale's cry had resonated with them too, leading to calls of going after the ogre and cheers of her name. It left Amaranth nervous, unsure what possessed her to throw herself into the spotlight like she had. But when she looked at Grimmsnarl again, club raised high as she and Gale closed in, her nerves gave way to a calmer ease. The winds were already carrying everything through, she just needed to lean into it. And brace herself as the explosion commenced from the finishing blow's chain reaction. Being at the epicenter of it would make it all too easy to slip up and get caught out, but her eyes betrayed the blindness it and the dust should've caused. But she could see it all the same, a way to navigate through and allow a safe passage out. Her body moved on its own as she directed her Pidgeot upward and out, both of them shooting out of the dust cloud and looping around to come to a safe landing back on the stage.

Despite the deafening cheers that came after it was clear that the two were alright, the first thing on Amaranth's mind as she got her feet back on solid ground was to make sure Grimmsnarl was too. She was worried she'd overdone it with her choice of attack, but upon seeing the slight smile despite its condition, she'd look to the audience alongside Gale, both offering a bow (or as close to one as a bird could give).

It'd certainly be a night to remember... and one to write about once she was back in Paldea.

---

[Ogre Outsin']

In all of Cera's effort and focus on her... unorthodox means of getting around on land, she didn't notice anything too terribly amiss. There were undoubtedly others that wouldn't share the same sentiment, having to now navigate ice in a region that probably wasn't known for much of it at all. For as much of an "advantage" as it made for her and Leslie, there were certainly remarks about how the field was being ruined or how 'the weird girl dressed up like a cat' was treating an endangered species poorly- in their words, of course. She and Lapras paid no mind to the Skwovet that were trying to figure out the new terrain they found theirselves in, let alone the Munchlax that had apparently tried too and gave up for their safety.

She wouldn't get anywhere near the numbers Leslie was managing, but she was getting a strong grasp on the mobility the ice afforded even as the constant efforts to maintain said ice were wearing her out. And there didn't seem to be many going towards the bins either. That plush was as good as hers at this rate and it felt like nothing would stop her now, not even loud roars and crashing.

...wait.

She and Lapras would slide to a stop as she saw the trees crashing down, followed by a trio of Snorlax barreling through at full tilt and some Munchlax trailing behind. For Cera, the sight made her go pale and she had a feeling the only way this ended was by being flattened. For Lapras, she'd instead look at the Snorlax as a challenge, especially with Leslie's shout. And the the look in her eyes was one Cera knew a little too well.

"Lapras, no, we'll move to the center and ready an assault there. There's no reason to skate towards them, they'll be really dangerous to fight that way," Cera spoke up, trying to give a gentle push to direct her towards the bins.

"Lap ras laplapras-"

"I don't care if you think you can take them, it's not safe- woah!" Finding herself flung onto her back, Lapras would course correct and Ice Beam her way towards the oncoming Snorlax, skating at them with as much speed as she could manage to prove to Cera that she could, in fact, take them. "I'm pretty sure Lapras has another plan to defend the berries!" She yelled out, scrambling to get herself back up to try and make the most of the situation.

Amaranth would be instantly crowded as people gathered around her, commending her and her Pidgeot for a job well done. Flowers were thrown over her and mochi in abundance was offered to her as well as several offers to join them for a feast. The people of Kitakami saw Amaranth in this moment not just as trainer that participated in a reenactment but the actual living representative of the Loyal three in one individual. As such she was to be honored.

The girl would no doubt have to turn most of these offers down as there was no way she could be everywhere at once but at least she made out with plenty of mochi. As she turned to leave the area she would be stopped be a man in a red suit with slicked back gray hair. "Ma'am! Ma'am!" The man shouted as he fought his way through the crowd and up to Amaranth. "Excuse me! Amaranth is it? That was amazing what you did out there with your Pidgeot! Tell me, are you familiar with Pokemon Contests at all?" He asked her after forcibly taking her hand and shaking it with vigor. "Oh! Where are my manners? My name is Raoul Contesta but everyone calls me Mr. Contesta! I'm a judge for the Hoenn Pokemon Contest circuit! After I saw what you did in that battle I think you would do swimmingly in Pokemon Contests! Might even give Lisia a run for her money!" He said with a chuckle.

The night before for the likes of the Snagems came to an abrupt halt with the Solgaleo Hybrid decking the resident Dragon gambler through a nearby stand last night which brought more of a commotion than what Kitakami had been typically used to. Oddly, it wasn’t as bad as it was feared. Granted, destruction of property like that wasn’t the greatest thing, seeing hybrids go at it like that in one swift motion was apparently exciting. For the older people, it seemed that it played it off as a new, exciting thing to be part of the festival. For the younger…well…something happened, period, and it looked pretty funny. All the same, before any animosity arose, the majority of the Snagems would pack it up and find their way back to the headquarters on Sub’s orders, with the weirder note of that the masks that were apparently stolen were returned back to their original owner. However, it wasn’t before Freth would check up with Tristen one last time to tell them they were on the way back.

The night from there on pretty much went by like a blur and Tristen found himself back at the community center, awake. Taking a look at his SNAG, he did some quick fuzzy math in his head just how long he had to try to get the last bits of his information gathering here. Part of him figured to head up towards the mountain to get a look at the place where everyone in Kitakami warned not to go, but there was also the one person that he still knew about that had information about the ogre. He didn’t exactly have all day, so he had to make a decision. After a quick breakfast, he’d break off from the students once again and start on the hunt for the person in question. It was supposed to be an older person, and looking into it more, a mask maker himself. Hopefully different from that creepy man from last night. He lived not too far from the community center, a house that lived near hillsides leading to the apple fields to the west, and lives alone with his wife. With note-taking materials in tow, started on the hunt for this place. Hopefully they wouldn’t mind unexpected company…

Tristen found his way across the small town, taking in the sights, for possibly the last time for a long time. It was peaceful out here, even moreso than the likes of Paldea. He recalled Perrin mentioning about how people whom were raised here were more desperate to get out into more bustling surroundings, places more lucrative, and its not hard to see why. It was probably a little too boring out here. Such a place would probably have drove the likes of Matteo mad. It certainly was Indi, though that was probably more of the lack of a vape than anything, if he had to guess. At least he smelled better than he has since he knew him.

He would start taking note to the house and started to look about. It seemed to meet the description; smaller tile roof house. Walled in front yard, has a little fish pond in the front yard no bigger than a kiddie pool at best, and nearby the apple fields on the outskirts on town. This had to be it. Tristen would walk the small stone path that was laid out from the yard’s entrance to the front door. Quickly, he worked up some nerve, trying to figure out what to say to these older people. He’d then give a sigh and press the doorbell. Hopefully someone was home.

“Good morning, miss. I’m sorry to bother you. Um…I guess I’ll just get to the point. My name is Tristen. I’m here on a school trip from the Paldea region overseas to work on a school project, namely in that of the festival and the story of the Ogre. I’m trying to cover all my bases in this report I’m trying to make because…well, I was taught due diligence. I wanted to check everything I could and not just rely on those pamphlets that are in the community center. I’ve already talked with a couple of people already and I was told that there was a mask maker who lives here that knows the history of the Ogre in particular. And given what I also heard from someone else in the festival last night, there was more to the story of the Ogre than what’s being celebrated. Like the Ogre may not be completely in the wrong.” Tristen explained. “If you don’t mind, miss, if he lives here, I would like to speak to him for a little bit while I still can before my trip back to school.”

Tristen would take the invitation in and took a look around the immediate area, making extra sure that he didn’t overstep any bounds in effectively a stranger’s home. He’d take off his dress sandals that he had provided to him by the academy due to how his feet were and put on the slippers that the nice lady provided. He’d then follow her off deeper into the home, which seemed fairly typical to what he knew of. Then again, it wasn’t like he had many homes to go on to compare to. His dorm room at the academy, and his bedroom and the main room back at Snagem headquarters was what he was most familiar with. It did look nice though. In fact, he’d imagine it was all this old couple ever really needed to finish out their years. The picture of the grandchildren didn’t escape his notice; he didn’t notice anyone like those two last night. It was probably just as what Perrin said last night; the young are trying to leave here and it was probably a matter of time before this place was going to be desolate of anyone caring to stay. It was why the population of an out-of-the-way region was so few. Two more kids realizing there was effectively nothing here to keep them here in the long term.

Tristen would continue following the nice old lady all the way back where it appeared to be a workshop. A old man who had surrounded himself by various masks of all sorts. Though unlike the ones he saw in the creepy mask salesman’s shop, these were more down to earth. There wasn’t any shock factor. And the old man before him was one working ever diligently on his trade. When he turned his attention to Tristen and gave his bow, Tristen returned the bow in return, trying to remain polite. He imagined the likes of not his adoptive father, but more so his father’s teacher. While his adoptive father was one to teach manners to the Manetric hybrid, especially as a young Electrike pup, it was his teacher that effectively demanded it with nary a word. He imagined the likes of the old gym leader staring Tristen down, boring holes in the back of his head. Discipline was the name of the game.

Once Tristen stood straight back up again after the old man’s introduction, Tristen stared curiously at the old couple, not having heard of this Blueberry Academy before. Thoughts for later. “Good morning, sir. My name is Tristen, I wanted to talk to you about the festival history and the Ogre. I’m trying to do a school report for class in Paldea and I wanted to make sure I got every thing I could before I went back home and in my asking around, I found out about you.” He said to him. “Can I ask you for some of your time, sir?”

Tristen started to realize that he needed to trust his nose a little bit more often. His eyes were telling one thing, his nose was saying another. It was the same person. It was one heck of a charade, for sure. “I…was about to, sir, but I was told that the masks were then returned back to its original owner. Like…the actual ogre of the mountain. But also as if it wasn’t a bad thing.” Tristen admitted. “I got the feeling something more happened right after that incident. So I don’t know whats going on other than that I know there’s more of the story that’s not being told.” Tristen said. “And given that you were out there last night to put on more of a show than anything, I guess you weren’t going to really tell everything out there in the middle of the public.” Tristen then speculated.

“By what I am gathering, these masks belonged to the ogre before they were taken from it. I don’t know by whom or why.” Tristen said. “I’m heavily doubting the village because why would they want to pick a fight with an ‘ogre’, whatever that Pokémon may be.” Tristen said. “Given what I was told so far, it didn’t even seem like this Pokémon was not bad at all until presumably the masks being taken.” He then listened to the old man, and whats crazier was that the mystery started to unravel in Tristen’s mind. The Loyal Three? Potential frauds, it started to look like. The Ogre, victim of happenstance.

As he continued to listen intently, he would walk around a little to get a view of the ogre like mask then looked over towards the old man once more. Then the name. ‘Ogerpon.’ He doesn't recall if Freth said too much about that name just before leaving. He doesn't think so. Crystal and Darts were already gone to the headquarters after their fight. He didn't see Sub either, probably to go deal with the aftermath of aforementioned fight. Tristen had to shake his head when asked about the Ogre clan. “I can’t say a whole lot. I’m assuming they are Ogerpon sympathizers. If I also had to guess, they’re probably the ones that can outright confirm seeing Ogerpon, because they actively look for it.” Tristen said, headtilting a little bit. Once again, those pieces started to fall down, Occam’s razor putting in its work in Tristen’s mind. “I’m guessing you might have a hand in that.”