Story By \n\t\t\t\t\t~Zarlex~ His half of the art trade~
Posted using PostyBirb",
"writing": "[b]Turbulence[/b]\n[i]By Neptune[/i]\n\nNapoleon let out a small sigh. Standing before him were two of his personal knights – Felix, a sirfetch'd, and Edgar, a corviknight.\n\nFelix was currently speaking, looking more than a bit irritated. “My liege, we know you’re due in Slateport by tomorrow, we’ve tried our hardest to get your usual transport. It’s just that—”\n\nNapoleon interrupted him. “I know, I know… Some sort of storm has been raging between here and there for weeks now. Makes the beaches here practically unusable too, with how rough the waves have been getting.” \n\nThe empoleon lifted a wing, rubbing his temple between his claws. This whole debacle was giving him a migraine. “…Edgar, could you possibly transport me? I know it’s last minute, but…”\n\nThe knight shook his head. “I would normally be honored, sire, but I cannot. My wing is still recovering from that gale I was caught in last month.”\n\nNapoleon nodded. “Right, right, I understand. I know you have been working hard to recover, I wouldn’t want to be the one to make it worse… What to do, what to do… Is there truly no ride service willing to brave this sort of storm? Even if it’s not my usual means of transport… I’m not opposed to using something a bit less fancy once in a while! Sometimes common comfort is more luxurious than the most regal of accommodations…”\n\nFelix and Edgar both shifted a bit on their talons. Napoleon immediately caught on. “…What is it? There is someone, isn’t there?”\n\nFelix coughed. “Well, yes… There was one service we had looked into.”\n\nEdgar quickly followed up. “BUT we figured you might not be interested. Their services are a bit… Different.”\n\nNapoleon let out a small laugh. “Oh, how different could it be? It's not like I have another option here. Not showing up to my dear friend’s royal wedding would be humiliating for my image!”\n\nFelix sighed, “Trust me when I say this would be far more humiliating than not showing up at all.”\n\nEdgar continued, “Plus, they only allow transport of a single passenger when they’re…”\n\nNapoleon coughed. “Yes, I know I've put on some weight recently. Not my fault when those banquets have so many delicious choices… No matter! You two can join me later, I'm sure I will be fine! I did train as a knight before my coronation, you know. An emperor has a responsibility to defend himself! So, come now, don’t be so negative! I'm fine riding in on the back of a smaller pokémon.”\n\nEdgar attempted to interrupt. “The thing is—”\n\nNapoleon interrupted him. “Zip! No buts!”\n\nFelix tried to interject. “My liege, you don’t ride on—”\n\nNapoleon once again stopped him. “Hush! I ride on any pokémon that will have me, I don’t judge based on class or status! I will not take no for an answer!”\n\nFelix and Edgar both glanced at each other and sighed… Their emperor WAS a stubborn one, but this…\n\nThey spoke in unison. “Yes, my liege. We’ll go fetch their finest pilot for you.”\n\nEdgar and Felix rushed off, leaving Napoleon alone in his throne room. Normally, he’d pack some extra items and such… But given the passenger constraints he figured he better pack lightly. He could purchase what he needed on the other end. He pondered why both Edgar and Felix were acting so… Strangely. Other than the storm, he didn’t understand what was different between one airline and any other… They all offered the same service; some were just cheaper than others. Hop on a pokémon’s back and off you went to your destination! Nothing too extraordinary. \n\nOr, so he thought. \n\nEdgar and Felix soon returned. Between them was a swellow, wearing a blue flight suit, with a matching scarf and an airline hat on top of her head. She seemed taken aback, seeing the emperor himself. Felix and Edgar stood before Napoleon and introduced their new guest. “Sire, this is Mistral of Swellow Air.”\n\nShe quickly bowed her head. “It’s an honor, your majesty! I never thought I would have the opportunity to transport the emperor himself!”\n\nNapoleon let out a little laugh. “No need to bow or be so formal! Please, Napoleon is just fine. I should be the one thanking you, after all! Not many are willing to brave this storm the way you are. So, thank you for stepping up to the task. Edgar, Felix, ensure Mistral here is paid handsomely for her work.”\n\nNapoleon looked down on the swellow with a small smile. She was a tad small, but he supposed he could fit on her back. “Oh, Mistral, might I ask where your riding saddle is? Did you leave it back at your office?”\n\nMistral paused. “Hm? Didn’t they tell you?”\n\nThe empoleon shook his head. “Tell me what?”\n\nMistral pointed at her beak. “Swellow Air transports its passengers internally, see! It's warmer, less risk of falling off, can carry more cargo… And well, it's the only reason we’re able to still provide service despite the gale.”\n\nNapoleon cleared his throat. “…I see.” So, this must’ve been what Edgar and Felix were trying to tell him. He glanced at the pair, who were shaking their heads in disbelief behind Mistral. Well… He was a man of his word. He swallowed his pride and continued after a brief, awkward silence. “How innovative! I'm sure it’s all safe and above board and all, yes?”\n\nMistral nodded. “Well, we do have a waver, but your two knights there already read it over and signed it for you.” Napoleon nodded approvingly… He did say he wouldn’t take no for an answer, after all, and he knows he certainly would’ve signed the same agreement regardless. Why waste time over something so trivial. “Your destination, given the delay, should give us more than enough time to get there without the risk of adverse effects. Plus, you'll be riding first class in the comfort of my crop! No pesky antacids to deal with in there.”\n\nNapoleon nodded. “Yes, of course. So. When do we depart and from where?”\n\nMistral eyed Napoleon up. Looking him up and down, before circling around to his backside and returning to his front once more. “Well, given your…”\n\nNapoleon was blushing just a bit. “…Yes, I know I'm on the larger side, no need to dance around it.”\n\nMistral tried not to laugh at the royal's embarrassment. “Yes, well, as I was saying, it’s probably best we launch from some higher ground, gives us more room to take off. And best to swallow you down at our takeoff point as well, no use waddling around town with you inside more than you need to be.”\n\nNapoleon nodded. “Right then! I know the perfect spot. The royal guard tower on the south side of town is the highest point in the city and should orient us towards our destination. Shall we be on our way then?”\n\nMistral nodded. “Yes, sir! Sounds like a plan! Thank you for choosing Swellow Air.”\n\nNapoleon nodded, turning to his two knights. “Thank you both! We shall be on our way then; I hope you can join us in Slateport soon.”\n\nEdgar and Felix both saluted. “Yes, sir! Safe travels!”\n\nNapoleon returned the salute before departing his throne room with Mistral in tow. It wasn’t long before the two pokémon arrived at their destination, a large, imposing stone tower that overlooks the Southern Ocean atop a rocky cliffside.\n\nNapoleon sighed, motioning for Mistral to follow, as he began what he thought would be the most uncomfortable part of this journey – the trip up that winding staircase. He trudged along with Mistral in tow, taking a deep breath as they reached the top. “Phew… Here we are then, this should give you enough room, I hope?”\n\nMistral nodded. “Yes, sir! This is more than enough.”\n\nThere was an awkward silence, broken only by Napoleon clearing his throat. “…I suppose this is where you, uh, eat me then, yes? How exactly does that work?”\n\n“Yep, you’ve got it! Though we prefer to call it boarding. Do you mind just… Squatting down just a bit for me?”\n\n“Not at all!” The empoleon squatted down a bit, to about half his normal height. “…Like th—mmmph!”\n\nAfter years of experience, Mistral has found that, for larger prey like this, it’s best to catch them just a bit off-guard. The surprise was enough to keep them mostly still for the most difficult part to swallow, that being the head and the wide shoulders. Once that’s through, it’s smooth sailing. After a few gulps, Mistral plopped onto her rear and tilted her head back. After a few more bobs of her head, she clacked her beak around Napoleon, gulping him down slowly like he was an oversized fish.\n\nIn almost no time at all and with little discomfort on his end, Napoleon finds himself curled up tightly in Mistral’s crop. From within its walls, Napoleon hears Mistral talking to him. “So, all settled in there?”\n\nNapoleon took a moment to reorient himself. It was… A little snug. And warm. But at the same time, it was surprisingly cozy. “All good in here, it's…”\n\nMistral chuckled. “Nicer than you expected, isn’t it? There’s a reason Swellow Air has such happy customers, after all!”\n\nNapoleon let out a small laugh himself. “I suppose so, yes. Well, I’m ready when you are! Let’s be off then.”\n\nMistral nodded affirmatively. “Yes sir! Slateport, here we come!”\n\nWith that, Mistral backed away from the edge of the guard tower, and started sprinting towards the edge. She unfurled her wings as she crested the side of the tower, flapping them gently as she took off. All went smoothly, and the pilot and passenger caught an updraft to soar sky-high, just as intended.\n\nMistral spoke once she was airborne. “All smooth on takeoff! Conditions are fair right now; we shouldn’t be hitting that storm for a few hours at best. If my predictions are correct, it should be a whole lot weaker by the time we get there. Shouldn’t be a problem at all!”\n\nNapoleon let out a relieved sigh. “Good, I’d hate to be stuck on some island somewhere waiting it out. Now that would be quite a mess…”\n\nMistral agreed, and things grew quiet for a bit, before Napoleon broke the silence once more. “…Just wanted to truly say thank you once again. I really do appreciate you doing this on such a short notice. I know you’re busy piloting, so I'll likely try and get a bit of rest in here… Just wanted to show my appreciation before clocking out.”\n\nMistral smiled, even though the emperor could not see. “Oh, you flatter me! Swellow Air is honored to have you as our passenger today! Please, get some rest. I'll poke you if something comes up.”\n\nWith a sigh, Napoleon closed his eyes. Much to his surprise, the warmth and the idle noise of the world outside, coupled with the rhythmic sound of Mistral’s beating heart and breathing lungs, was just the right combination to soothe him to sleep. He slept uninterrupted for a while, before a sudden lurch perked him awake. “G- gah! What is going on out there?”\n\nMistral was panting, her heart rate quickened, and Napoleon could hear the sound of rain and wind outside the stomach walls. “We hit the storm sooner than expected! I- it’s gotten bigger and stronger, NOT smaller like we had planned. That STUPID Wishcash told me the wrong forecast again…!”\n\n“W- what do you mean AGAIN?!” Napoleon took a deep breath. Stay calm. Focus. It’s not her fault. “Just find a place to land. We can continue—urk!”\n\nAnother lurch rocked Mistral’s crop. “I- I’ve been trying to find somewhere to land for the past twenty minutes! There’s nothing out there. The rain is making it impossible to see anything down there, it all just looks like open sea!”\n\nNapoleon grumbled, completely powerless since, well, he was trapped in the swellow’s crop.\n\nOr so he thought he was.\n\nHe moved to reorient himself, but felt a tugging on his leg. Looking down, he saw that his webbed foot was missing. Well. Not TRULY missing. It had just slipped through the sphincter at the bottom of Mistral’s crop. “Mistral… My leg is stuck.”\n\n“A- Ah, that explains why I felt something strange… Can you pull it—woah!”\n\nA strong gust sends her spiraling downward. Caught off guard, Napoleon has no time to prepare as the force of gravity tugged him further downward. What was one his foot was now an entire leg and a half. Both had started to funnel into the tight stomach below.\n\n“Shit! M- my legs have both slipped deeper! I take it you have an emergency protocol for this?!”\n\n“…”\n\n“…Mistral?”\n\n“…My pack of antacids got blown off into the ocean when I got knocked sideways by that first gust of wind.”\n\n“…Excuse me?”\n\n“T- there’s no need to panic!” Mistral squawked, sounding more than a little panicked herself. “There’s got to be someplace to land out here. There HAS to be. Just hang in there. I'll cough you up once I land.”\n\nNapoleon grumbled in discontent. Felix and Edgar were going to get an earful for putting him through this! Of course, something like this could only end up a disaster. “Is there anything you or I can do to pull myself out of there? It's… definitely warmer than the crop… And not so comfortable.”\n\nBefore Mistral could reply, another lurch caused Napoleon to slide even deeper. He’d now slid in up to his waist, before his slight gut plugged the sphincter like a cork. “Urk… T- this is gripping pretty tight around me, Mistral!”\n\nAll the bubbling and lurching caused Mistral to let out a sick sounding burp. “This is making me feel sick…”\n\nInitially, Napoleon was hoping Mistral WOULD get sick. Maybe that would get him unstuck from the sphincter… But he quickly realized he’d be sent falling several thousand feet to the ocean surface. Not ideal. The burp caused air to be sucked out of the chamber, making Napoleon feel just a bit light headed, even after Mistral quickly gulped down more air.\n\nNapoleon then felt something strange. His legs were tingling. Initially, he thought it was just from the tight ring around his waist impacting his blood flow… Until he felt the stomach below him clench around his legs.\n\n“M- Mistral! I- I think I can feel your stomach—” \n\nMistral sighed. “Yeah, I know it’s starting to try and digest you. Trust me. I feel it. There’s... urk. No need to worry. You’re big. And a steel type. There’s plenty of time to find a place to laaaaaaaHHH—\"\n\nA resounding boom shook the stomach, Mistral having just BARELY dodged a lightning bolt. The evasive maneuver sends Napoleon even deeper. His gut pops in like a grape, and the eager stomach quickly takes in the emperor up to his shoulders. “Ghhh… C- can you stop doing that already?! Can’t you find a place to land?!”\n\nMistral chirped. “I'm trying! This isn’t as easy as it looks… I think I see something. But I have to fly against the wind!”\n\n“Just GO! It’s not like we have a- gACK!” \n\nHe winces in pain. A hard clench of the gut below grabs ahold of something in his leg. He felt it twist and then snap out of its socket. Trying to move his leg in a panic only caused Napoleon to slide deeper. He gasped as his head was pulled in with a slurp, leaving him fully submerged in Mistral’s stomach.\n\nMistral winced, hearing the popping joint too. “I- I'm so sorry, this is all my fault, I'm tr—\"\n\nDespite everything, Napoleon managed to steady and calm himself. “Mistral. Don’t let it get to you; this isn’t your fault. You know how to fly. So. Fly.”\n\nMistral was silent, taking a deep breath of her own. Napoleon was right. She’s got this! Driven on by Napoleon’s motivating words, she beat her wings and flew into the headwind, keeping her eyes on the island she was determined to land on. \n\nMeanwhile, Napoleon’s eyes adjusted to his new surroundings. They were definitely less comfortable than the crop above. There was a low puddle of acids that caused anything exposed to it to tingle. He lifted an arm, to find it covered in berry juice and… maybe some piece of what used to be a Caterpie exoskeleton? He shuddered, trying not to make himself sick as he stewed away amongst half-digested lunch slop. The sickly sweet smell of digesting berry juice made that task even harder. \n\nWhat both Mistral and Napoleon hadn’t considered was the energy required to fly straight into a headwind. As the minutes went by, Napoleon felt the gut start to squeeze and churn around him in earnest. The exertion was kicking it into overdrive.\n\n“Mistral, are we getting any closer? Your gut seems to be more active than before…”\n\nMistral had her eyes locked on that island. It was getting closer… just barely. She still had a long way to go. But she didn’t want the empoleon inside to lose his faith in her. “Yes, we should be arriving momentarily! I'm trying my best out here, just keep it together.”\n\nThat proved to be easier said than done. The gut suddenly clenched around Napoleon, much tighter than it had been before. It's tight to his skin now, the berry juice and carapace sloshed about him and stuck to his feathers along with those digestive fluids. His whole lower half was submerged and by now starting to itch. He noticed a few of his own black feathers floating amongst the slop, causing him to let out a groan of discomfort. “M- Mistral I’m getting really worried in here! It’s getting tighter and I'm starting to itch a li—”\n\nAnd then it happened. The headwind Mistral was flying against suddenly changed course, sending the swellow flying. Every muscle in her body tensed up to try and keep herself from getting sent plummeting into the ocean below. This, of course, included her stomach, which clamped down like a vice around Napoleon. Before either even knew what happened, the regal pokémon is folded in half by a particularly powerful gut contraction, one that folded him practically in half. Several bones in his spine shattered almost instantly. The trident-like crest on his head gets caught against the stomach wall, which cranes his neck to the side and severs it from his spine. Arms and legs and crushed and compacted against his body, bent out at strange angles as the bones inside them crack and splinter.\n\nIn a matter of seconds, Napoleon went from a Royal Emperor to a nearly spherical ball of dead meat hanging from a swellow’s waistline.\n\nAnd Mistral had gone from the heroic pilot to a regicidal assassin.\n\nAt least she succeeded in her initial goal of not fatally crashing into the ocean below. Mistral just barely righted herself at the last possible second, and found herself out of the deadly winds from the storm above. Her heart thumps in her chest. She was so focused on surviving that she hadn’t even noticed the dead weight in her gut just yet. \n\n“Phew, that was a close one, Your Highness… Uh… Sir?”\n\nShe started to sweat as her gut let out an eerie gurgle. She looked forward, and saw that in her near-death free fall, she ended up drawing ever closer to that island she desperately sought to land on. She rapidly beat her wings, frantically trying to reach the small patch of sand. Finally, her talons hit solid ground, her breathing heavy as she folded her sore wings to her side. She prodded her gut with one of them… No movement.\n\n“O- oh. Oh no. No no.”\n\nMistral was devastated. She was trusted with a precious passenger. Literal royalty! And all she did was royally mess it up. Sure, she had some mistakes in the past… But hand waving away some random pokémon who couldn’t afford a ride in her crop was one thing!\n\nA wealthy emperor? Traveling first class? On a trip to convene with other leaders from around the globe? That was different. She could not just explain this away so easily…\n\nWell…\n\n“His knights did sign a contract that freed me from all liability should something like this occur… And he did know the risk of flying head-on into a storm, he had to. Especially one that everyone else refused to fly into. There was never any guarantee… Yeah!”\n\nMistral paced back and forth on the small island, her gut gurgling and groaning. Not that she noticed, as she continued to give herself a pep talk and convince herself that this was totally fine.\n\n“It’s not my fault at all. An unexpected burst of wind almost killed us… Had I not managed to right myself we both would’ve died on impact with the water anyway. At least I get to report back! Tell them what happened… Hm. But would they believe me? I have been known to get a bit peckish… Not that I have a choice. I can’t just pretend nothing happened… What to do, what to do…”\n\nMistral let out a sigh. This was so inconvenient. Why did she listen to Wishcash yet again, why did she take this high-profile job, why didn’t she look for a place to land sooner, why did she – “Mistral, stop. There’s no use working yourself into a panic. What’s done is done.”\n\nWith a sigh, she plopped down into the sand. Not like she could take off from such a low altitude, given the raging storm above. She rubbed her temple with a wing, frustrated and trying to come up with some way she could explain this and not immediately get executed for accidentally murdering an emperor.\n\nSuddenly, she was roused from her wandering mental state by a resounding grumble in her gut. She winced, a pocket of air escaping her beak with a resounding belch. Black and white feathers, stained with berry juice and stomach acids, still carrying his flavour, fluttered into the air before they are whisked away by the breeze generated by the tempest above. She grimaced at the sight, before looking at her engorged gut with a look of disappointment. “Not to mention I still need to get off this island so we aren’t a total no-show on the other end… The storm will hopefully pass by the morning. But it means I have to process all of you down as soon as possible, too. Arceus, I don’t even get to savor this because, if I am being honest, you WERE quite delectable…”\n\nMistral laid back and went quiet as she decided to stop talking to a prey that was no longer around to hear her. Plus, the whole ordeal had her more than a little exhausted. Her eyelids fluttered as her belly cracked and groaned beneath her and she soon drifted off to sleep. As she slept, her gut went into overdrive. Ex-emperor was mulched and compacted down as flesh was stripped off of bone. The once portly emperor filters down as sludge into her intestines, leaving his indigestible feathers, bones, and beak behind. Luckily the island was deserted save for her – the noises and groans her stomach was producing would keep anyone else awake.\n\nShe slept through the rest of the day and the following night. At around mid-day, her eyes shot open with a start. “I overslept!”\n\nShe sprung up onto her talons, wobbling a bit at her new found weight. Napoleon was nothing more than pudge, energy, and waste at this point. Mistral looked to the sky, and saw that the storm had cleared out overnight. Not wanting to delay any longer, she flapped her wings and, without a full-sized empoleon in tow, though having yet to relive the excess weight, took off with some extra effort into the sky. She reached cruising altitude, soaring over the seas below towards their original destination – only, it was now only her destination. And she still had a long way to go.\n\n[b]—-------------------------Scat/Pellet Disposal Begins—---------------------------[/b]\n\nAs she flew, she began to grow a bit uncomfortable. Her stomach ached, and her innards were full of pressure. “Well, my liege, I suppose this is as far as you’ll go. Duty calls.”\n\nMistral steadied her wings to glide, and started to contract her stomach and throat. Slowly but surely, the indigestible pellet of the ex-emperor made its way up her throat. The pellet itself was massive. The empoleon was a huge meal, and the clump of bones and feathers she was attempting to spit up was still a fifth of his original size. The bones, beak, and horns scraped her throat, while the clumped up feathers tickled on the way up. The uncomfortable combination caused Mistral to flutter away from her initial flight path due to the distraction. At one point, the whole thing managed to lodge itself in her airway, causing a brief moment of panic until another loud hack pushed it on its way.\n\nFinally, after an agonizingly long retching session, Mistral let out a loud “HURk--!” as she finally managed to cough it up, angling her head downwards so it fell to the ocean below. As it fell, Mistral could see the now-dingy yellow of Napoleon’s trident-like beak, the tip of one of its prongs snapped off and ending up who knows where. She can make out a few bones as well. Part of a fractured skull, a shattered foot still clinging to a tattered piece of his webbed yellow foot, and a few broken ribs jut out from the pellet. But the bulk of it was a wad of black, white, and blue feathers. However, that was all she could examine as the rapidly falling pellet continued getting further and further away. It would eventually hit the ocean surface, its contents ending up totally obliterated by the waves – hardly a funeral fit for royalty.\n\nHowever, the pellet was only one piece of the puzzle. Mistral still had to let out the rest of him, this time, from her cloaca. She flapped her wings a few times as she relaxed her lower end. White and brown flexed excrement shot from her tailhole, consisting of the powdery remains of bones that made it into her digestive tract, excess fluids her body had new use for, and whatever else her digestive system failed to process of the massive empoleon. It, too, ended up in the ocean below, joining his more solid remains in their funeral at sea.\n\nShe shivered mid-flight as the mostly fluid introduction was followed up by more solid waste. She wasn’t used to this, but Napoleon, being a huge meal, had a lot to offer. She beat her wings to steady herself as she felt feathers tickle out of her digestive tract, floating in the breeze as they fell to the ocean below. She gasped in shock as something sharp prodded her on the way out. Glancing back, she saw the missing prong of Napoleon’s horns tumbling to the ocean surface.\n\n“That could’ve been dangerous…” She muttered to herself.\n\nIt didn’t stop there. She let out one final deluge, a mix of bird scat shooting out of her with a few more solid objects. A claw or two are first, alongside some ruined yellow cartilage from a webbed foot. Next to go a few chips off the tip of his beak, that tingle on the way out. Finally, a few small, bent, and twisted scraps of metal from his arm blades jab against her rear and tumble out, causing Mistral to let out another uncomfortable huff.\n\nAs the final pieces of waste fell to join the rest of Napoleon in his watery grave, Mistral let out a sigh of relief. She found herself a second wind as she rid herself of all that pressure and dead weight. It was so much easier to fly without it. \n\n[b]—-------------------------Scat/Pellet Disposal Ends—---------------------------[/b]\n\nFrom there, the trip goes rather smoothly. By evening, she touched down in Slateport, where she was greeted by a rather posh-looking Persian.\n\n“Greetings, miss. You must be… Napoleon’s party?”\n\nThe persian looked around… Noting that the rather boisterous empoleon was nowhere to be found.\n\nMistral looked down and let out a small laugh as she kicked her feet. “Well… About that… We hit a bit of turbulence and one thing quickly led to another. He slipped out of my crop, you see and uh… Didn’t… Exactly make it?”\n\nThe persian blinked, looking at the swellow in silence. “He didn’t make it?”\n\nMistral shook her head. “No, sir, he—” She suddenly stopped herself, feeling a pain in the back of her throat. She started coughing, as she and the Persian both backed away from each other. With a splat, Mistral coughed up the last prong of Napoleon’s trident-beak.\n\n“O- oh… There it is…”\n\nThe persian looked at it. A look of horror and shock filled his eyes as he quickly looked back to the swellow.\n\n“You… What?! This is unforgivable! Disgraceful! Impossible! You come with me. Now.”\n\nMistral gulped nervously, as both her and the persian made their way to the nearby guard station. persian introduced her as Napoleon’s murder, which technically wasn’t 100% wrong but felt overly simplistic to poor Mistral. As she tried to explain herself, she remembered she had a copy of the contract and presented it to the clefable on duty. She looked it over, shaking his head as he read through everything…\n\n“Well… He did legally sign his life away with this, and this is certainly his royal seal… This swellow here has done nothing legally wrong. I… Always knew Napoleon was an impatient man. But to do something so… Hasty? He should have known his overconfidence would catch up with him eventually…”\n\nThe persian grumbled discontentedly to himself, waving Mistral away. She found herself a place to stay for the night and passed out after the long and tiresome journey. The next day, she attempted to get into the wedding Napoleon was supposed to be attending. Sadly, the stoutland at the door told her, “No Emperor, no entry.”\n\nSo, instead she spent the next day sightseeing. The museum of nautical history, an art festival in the south of town, a tour of the grand lighthouse by the shore… Before she knew it, the sun was about to set on her final day in Slateport. As she made her way to the center of town, she noticed two familiar faces in the distance – Napoleon’s knights, the corviknight and sirfetch'd, had arrived, planning to catch up with Napoleon when the wedding had wrapped up. They quickly noticed her, and her far heftier figure.\n\n“Where is he?”\n\nShe looked a bit bashful. \n\n“What did you do?!”\n\n“Well… It’s a bit of a long story…”\n\nBy nightfall, the two knights were on the way back to Eaulandia, trying to figure out how in the world the kingdom would select a new Emperor without an heir apparent. \n\nAnd, after she bid farewell, a now pudgier Mistral flew her way back to the nearest Swellow Air post. She felt bad, but at least she got off the hook… It certainly wasn’t her first mistake. Nor would it be her last. But it did mean that her safety streak would reset again, much to her disappointment… More So for having to fill out paperwork to file an incident report than anything else. In the long run, it never mattered too much. Customers always came knocking. Speaking of, after a few hours of filling out a seemingly endless number of forms, she heard the bell ring and looked up from the desk as a Quilava entered the lobby.\n\n“Good evening, and welcome to Swellow Air!” \n\n",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "Turbulence By Neptune
Napoleon let out a small sigh. Standing before him were two of his personal knights – Felix, a sirfetch'd, and Edgar, a corviknight.
Felix was currently speaking, looking more than a bit irritated. “My liege, we know you’re due in Slateport by tomorrow, we’ve tried our hardest to get your usual transport. It’s just that—”
Napoleon interrupted him. “I know, I know… Some sort of storm has been raging between here and there for weeks now. Makes the beaches here practically unusable too, with how rough the waves have been getting.”
The empoleon lifted a wing, rubbing his temple between his claws. This whole debacle was giving him a migraine. “…Edgar, could you possibly transport me? I know it’s last minute, but…”
The knight shook his head. “I would normally be honored, sire, but I cannot. My wing is still recovering from that gale I was caught in last month.”
Napoleon nodded. “Right, right, I understand. I know you have been working hard to recover, I wouldn’t want to be the one to make it worse… What to do, what to do… Is there truly no ride service willing to brave this sort of storm? Even if it’s not my usual means of transport… I’m not opposed to using something a bit less fancy once in a while! Sometimes common comfort is more luxurious than the most regal of accommodations…”
Felix and Edgar both shifted a bit on their talons. Napoleon immediately caught on. “…What is it? There is someone, isn’t there?”
Felix coughed. “Well, yes… There was one service we had looked into.”
Edgar quickly followed up. “BUT we figured you might not be interested. Their services are a bit… Different.”
Napoleon let out a small laugh. “Oh, how different could it be? It's not like I have another option here. Not showing up to my dear friend’s royal wedding would be humiliating for my image!”
Felix sighed, “Trust me when I say this would be far more humiliating than not showing up at all.”
Edgar continued, “Plus, they only allow transport of a single passenger when they’re…”
Napoleon coughed. “Yes, I know I've put on some weight recently. Not my fault when those banquets have so many delicious choices… No matter! You two can join me later, I'm sure I will be fine! I did train as a knight before my coronation, you know. An emperor has a responsibility to defend himself! So, come now, don’t be so negative! I'm fine riding in on the back of a smaller pokémon.”
Edgar attempted to interrupt. “The thing is—”
Napoleon interrupted him. “Zip! No buts!”
Felix tried to interject. “My liege, you don’t ride on—”
Napoleon once again stopped him. “Hush! I ride on any pokémon that will have me, I don’t judge based on class or status! I will not take no for an answer!”
Felix and Edgar both glanced at each other and sighed… Their emperor WAS a stubborn one, but this…
They spoke in unison. “Yes, my liege. We’ll go fetch their finest pilot for you.”
Edgar and Felix rushed off, leaving Napoleon alone in his throne room. Normally, he’d pack some extra items and such… But given the passenger constraints he figured he better pack lightly. He could purchase what he needed on the other end. He pondered why both Edgar and Felix were acting so… Strangely. Other than the storm, he didn’t understand what was different between one airline and any other… They all offered the same service; some were just cheaper than others. Hop on a pokémon’s back and off you went to your destination! Nothing too extraordinary.
Or, so he thought.
Edgar and Felix soon returned. Between them was a swellow, wearing a blue flight suit, with a matching scarf and an airline hat on top of her head. She seemed taken aback, seeing the emperor himself. Felix and Edgar stood before Napoleon and introduced their new guest. “Sire, this is Mistral of Swellow Air.”
She quickly bowed her head. “It’s an honor, your majesty! I never thought I would have the opportunity to transport the emperor himself!”
Napoleon let out a little laugh. “No need to bow or be so formal! Please, Napoleon is just fine. I should be the one thanking you, after all! Not many are willing to brave this storm the way you are. So, thank you for stepping up to the task. Edgar, Felix, ensure Mistral here is paid handsomely for her work.”
Napoleon looked down on the swellow with a small smile. She was a tad small, but he supposed he could fit on her back. “Oh, Mistral, might I ask where your riding saddle is? Did you leave it back at your office?”
Mistral paused. “Hm? Didn’t they tell you?”
The empoleon shook his head. “Tell me what?”
Mistral pointed at her beak. “Swellow Air transports its passengers internally, see! It's warmer, less risk of falling off, can carry more cargo… And well, it's the only reason we’re able to still provide service despite the gale.”
Napoleon cleared his throat. “…I see.” So, this must’ve been what Edgar and Felix were trying to tell him. He glanced at the pair, who were shaking their heads in disbelief behind Mistral. Well… He was a man of his word. He swallowed his pride and continued after a brief, awkward silence. “How innovative! I'm sure it’s all safe and above board and all, yes?”
Mistral nodded. “Well, we do have a waver, but your two knights there already read it over and signed it for you.” Napoleon nodded approvingly… He did say he wouldn’t take no for an answer, after all, and he knows he certainly would’ve signed the same agreement regardless. Why waste time over something so trivial. “Your destination, given the delay, should give us more than enough time to get there without the risk of adverse effects. Plus, you'll be riding first class in the comfort of my crop! No pesky antacids to deal with in there.”
Napoleon nodded. “Yes, of course. So. When do we depart and from where?”
Mistral eyed Napoleon up. Looking him up and down, before circling around to his backside and returning to his front once more. “Well, given your…”
Napoleon was blushing just a bit. “…Yes, I know I'm on the larger side, no need to dance around it.”
Mistral tried not to laugh at the royal's embarrassment. “Yes, well, as I was saying, it’s probably best we launch from some higher ground, gives us more room to take off. And best to swallow you down at our takeoff point as well, no use waddling around town with you inside more than you need to be.”
Napoleon nodded. “Right then! I know the perfect spot. The royal guard tower on the south side of town is the highest point in the city and should orient us towards our destination. Shall we be on our way then?”
Mistral nodded. “Yes, sir! Sounds like a plan! Thank you for choosing Swellow Air.”
Napoleon nodded, turning to his two knights. “Thank you both! We shall be on our way then; I hope you can join us in Slateport soon.”
Edgar and Felix both saluted. “Yes, sir! Safe travels!”
Napoleon returned the salute before departing his throne room with Mistral in tow. It wasn’t long before the two pokémon arrived at their destination, a large, imposing stone tower that overlooks the Southern Ocean atop a rocky cliffside.
Napoleon sighed, motioning for Mistral to follow, as he began what he thought would be the most uncomfortable part of this journey – the trip up that winding staircase. He trudged along with Mistral in tow, taking a deep breath as they reached the top. “Phew… Here we are then, this should give you enough room, I hope?”
Mistral nodded. “Yes, sir! This is more than enough.”
There was an awkward silence, broken only by Napoleon clearing his throat. “…I suppose this is where you, uh, eat me then, yes? How exactly does that work?”
“Yep, you’ve got it! Though we prefer to call it boarding. Do you mind just… Squatting down just a bit for me?”
“Not at all!” The empoleon squatted down a bit, to about half his normal height. “…Like th—mmmph!”
After years of experience, Mistral has found that, for larger prey like this, it’s best to catch them just a bit off-guard. The surprise was enough to keep them mostly still for the most difficult part to swallow, that being the head and the wide shoulders. Once that’s through, it’s smooth sailing. After a few gulps, Mistral plopped onto her rear and tilted her head back. After a few more bobs of her head, she clacked her beak around Napoleon, gulping him down slowly like he was an oversized fish.
In almost no time at all and with little discomfort on his end, Napoleon finds himself curled up tightly in Mistral’s crop. From within its walls, Napoleon hears Mistral talking to him. “So, all settled in there?”
Napoleon took a moment to reorient himself. It was… A little snug. And warm. But at the same time, it was surprisingly cozy. “All good in here, it's…”
Mistral chuckled. “Nicer than you expected, isn’t it? There’s a reason Swellow Air has such happy customers, after all!”
Napoleon let out a small laugh himself. “I suppose so, yes. Well, I’m ready when you are! Let’s be off then.”
Mistral nodded affirmatively. “Yes sir! Slateport, here we come!”
With that, Mistral backed away from the edge of the guard tower, and started sprinting towards the edge. She unfurled her wings as she crested the side of the tower, flapping them gently as she took off. All went smoothly, and the pilot and passenger caught an updraft to soar sky-high, just as intended.
Mistral spoke once she was airborne. “All smooth on takeoff! Conditions are fair right now; we shouldn’t be hitting that storm for a few hours at best. If my predictions are correct, it should be a whole lot weaker by the time we get there. Shouldn’t be a problem at all!”
Napoleon let out a relieved sigh. “Good, I’d hate to be stuck on some island somewhere waiting it out. Now that would be quite a mess…”
Mistral agreed, and things grew quiet for a bit, before Napoleon broke the silence once more. “…Just wanted to truly say thank you once again. I really do appreciate you doing this on such a short notice. I know you’re busy piloting, so I'll likely try and get a bit of rest in here… Just wanted to show my appreciation before clocking out.”
Mistral smiled, even though the emperor could not see. “Oh, you flatter me! Swellow Air is honored to have you as our passenger today! Please, get some rest. I'll poke you if something comes up.”
With a sigh, Napoleon closed his eyes. Much to his surprise, the warmth and the idle noise of the world outside, coupled with the rhythmic sound of Mistral’s beating heart and breathing lungs, was just the right combination to soothe him to sleep. He slept uninterrupted for a while, before a sudden lurch perked him awake. “G- gah! What is going on out there?”
Mistral was panting, her heart rate quickened, and Napoleon could hear the sound of rain and wind outside the stomach walls. “We hit the storm sooner than expected! I- it’s gotten bigger and stronger, NOT smaller like we had planned. That STUPID Wishcash told me the wrong forecast again…!”
“W- what do you mean AGAIN?!” Napoleon took a deep breath. Stay calm. Focus. It’s not her fault. “Just find a place to land. We can continue—urk!”
Another lurch rocked Mistral’s crop. “I- I’ve been trying to find somewhere to land for the past twenty minutes! There’s nothing out there. The rain is making it impossible to see anything down there, it all just looks like open sea!”
Napoleon grumbled, completely powerless since, well, he was trapped in the swellow’s crop.
Or so he thought he was.
He moved to reorient himself, but felt a tugging on his leg. Looking down, he saw that his webbed foot was missing. Well. Not TRULY missing. It had just slipped through the sphincter at the bottom of Mistral’s crop. “Mistral… My leg is stuck.”
“A- Ah, that explains why I felt something strange… Can you pull it—woah!”
A strong gust sends her spiraling downward. Caught off guard, Napoleon has no time to prepare as the force of gravity tugged him further downward. What was one his foot was now an entire leg and a half. Both had started to funnel into the tight stomach below.
“Shit! M- my legs have both slipped deeper! I take it you have an emergency protocol for this?!”
“…”
“…Mistral?”
“…My pack of antacids got blown off into the ocean when I got knocked sideways by that first gust of wind.”
“…Excuse me?”
“T- there’s no need to panic!” Mistral squawked, sounding more than a little panicked herself. “There’s got to be someplace to land out here. There HAS to be. Just hang in there. I'll cough you up once I land.”
Napoleon grumbled in discontent. Felix and Edgar were going to get an earful for putting him through this! Of course, something like this could only end up a disaster. “Is there anything you or I can do to pull myself out of there? It's… definitely warmer than the crop… And not so comfortable.”
Before Mistral could reply, another lurch caused Napoleon to slide even deeper. He’d now slid in up to his waist, before his slight gut plugged the sphincter like a cork. “Urk… T- this is gripping pretty tight around me, Mistral!”
All the bubbling and lurching caused Mistral to let out a sick sounding burp. “This is making me feel sick…”
Initially, Napoleon was hoping Mistral WOULD get sick. Maybe that would get him unstuck from the sphincter… But he quickly realized he’d be sent falling several thousand feet to the ocean surface. Not ideal. The burp caused air to be sucked out of the chamber, making Napoleon feel just a bit light headed, even after Mistral quickly gulped down more air.
Napoleon then felt something strange. His legs were tingling. Initially, he thought it was just from the tight ring around his waist impacting his blood flow… Until he felt the stomach below him clench around his legs.
“M- Mistral! I- I think I can feel your stomach—”
Mistral sighed. “Yeah, I know it’s starting to try and digest you. Trust me. I feel it. There’s... urk. No need to worry. You’re big. And a steel type. There’s plenty of time to find a place to laaaaaaaHHH—"
A resounding boom shook the stomach, Mistral having just BARELY dodged a lightning bolt. The evasive maneuver sends Napoleon even deeper. His gut pops in like a grape, and the eager stomach quickly takes in the emperor up to his shoulders. “Ghhh… C- can you stop doing that already?! Can’t you find a place to land?!”
Mistral chirped. “I'm trying! This isn’t as easy as it looks… I think I see something. But I have to fly against the wind!”
“Just GO! It’s not like we have a- gACK!”
He winces in pain. A hard clench of the gut below grabs ahold of something in his leg. He felt it twist and then snap out of its socket. Trying to move his leg in a panic only caused Napoleon to slide deeper. He gasped as his head was pulled in with a slurp, leaving him fully submerged in Mistral’s stomach.
Mistral winced, hearing the popping joint too. “I- I'm so sorry, this is all my fault, I'm tr—"
Despite everything, Napoleon managed to steady and calm himself. “Mistral. Don’t let it get to you; this isn’t your fault. You know how to fly. So. Fly.”
Mistral was silent, taking a deep breath of her own. Napoleon was right. She’s got this! Driven on by Napoleon’s motivating words, she beat her wings and flew into the headwind, keeping her eyes on the island she was determined to land on.
Meanwhile, Napoleon’s eyes adjusted to his new surroundings. They were definitely less comfortable than the crop above. There was a low puddle of acids that caused anything exposed to it to tingle. He lifted an arm, to find it covered in berry juice and… maybe some piece of what used to be a Caterpie exoskeleton? He shuddered, trying not to make himself sick as he stewed away amongst half-digested lunch slop. The sickly sweet smell of digesting berry juice made that task even harder.
What both Mistral and Napoleon hadn’t considered was the energy required to fly straight into a headwind. As the minutes went by, Napoleon felt the gut start to squeeze and churn around him in earnest. The exertion was kicking it into overdrive.
“Mistral, are we getting any closer? Your gut seems to be more active than before…”
Mistral had her eyes locked on that island. It was getting closer… just barely. She still had a long way to go. But she didn’t want the empoleon inside to lose his faith in her. “Yes, we should be arriving momentarily! I'm trying my best out here, just keep it together.”
That proved to be easier said than done. The gut suddenly clenched around Napoleon, much tighter than it had been before. It's tight to his skin now, the berry juice and carapace sloshed about him and stuck to his feathers along with those digestive fluids. His whole lower half was submerged and by now starting to itch. He noticed a few of his own black feathers floating amongst the slop, causing him to let out a groan of discomfort. “M- Mistral I’m getting really worried in here! It’s getting tighter and I'm starting to itch a li—”
And then it happened. The headwind Mistral was flying against suddenly changed course, sending the swellow flying. Every muscle in her body tensed up to try and keep herself from getting sent plummeting into the ocean below. This, of course, included her stomach, which clamped down like a vice around Napoleon. Before either even knew what happened, the regal pokémon is folded in half by a particularly powerful gut contraction, one that folded him practically in half. Several bones in his spine shattered almost instantly. The trident-like crest on his head gets caught against the stomach wall, which cranes his neck to the side and severs it from his spine. Arms and legs and crushed and compacted against his body, bent out at strange angles as the bones inside them crack and splinter.
In a matter of seconds, Napoleon went from a Royal Emperor to a nearly spherical ball of dead meat hanging from a swellow’s waistline.
And Mistral had gone from the heroic pilot to a regicidal assassin.
At least she succeeded in her initial goal of not fatally crashing into the ocean below. Mistral just barely righted herself at the last possible second, and found herself out of the deadly winds from the storm above. Her heart thumps in her chest. She was so focused on surviving that she hadn’t even noticed the dead weight in her gut just yet.
“Phew, that was a close one, Your Highness… Uh… Sir?”
She started to sweat as her gut let out an eerie gurgle. She looked forward, and saw that in her near-death free fall, she ended up drawing ever closer to that island she desperately sought to land on. She rapidly beat her wings, frantically trying to reach the small patch of sand. Finally, her talons hit solid ground, her breathing heavy as she folded her sore wings to her side. She prodded her gut with one of them… No movement.
“O- oh. Oh no. No no.”
Mistral was devastated. She was trusted with a precious passenger. Literal royalty! And all she did was royally mess it up. Sure, she had some mistakes in the past… But hand waving away some random pokémon who couldn’t afford a ride in her crop was one thing!
A wealthy emperor? Traveling first class? On a trip to convene with other leaders from around the globe? That was different. She could not just explain this away so easily…
Well…
“His knights did sign a contract that freed me from all liability should something like this occur… And he did know the risk of flying head-on into a storm, he had to. Especially one that everyone else refused to fly into. There was never any guarantee… Yeah!”
Mistral paced back and forth on the small island, her gut gurgling and groaning. Not that she noticed, as she continued to give herself a pep talk and convince herself that this was totally fine.
“It’s not my fault at all. An unexpected burst of wind almost killed us… Had I not managed to right myself we both would’ve died on impact with the water anyway. At least I get to report back! Tell them what happened… Hm. But would they believe me? I have been known to get a bit peckish… Not that I have a choice. I can’t just pretend nothing happened… What to do, what to do…”
Mistral let out a sigh. This was so inconvenient. Why did she listen to Wishcash yet again, why did she take this high-profile job, why didn’t she look for a place to land sooner, why did she – “Mistral, stop. There’s no use working yourself into a panic. What’s done is done.”
With a sigh, she plopped down into the sand. Not like she could take off from such a low altitude, given the raging storm above. She rubbed her temple with a wing, frustrated and trying to come up with some way she could explain this and not immediately get executed for accidentally murdering an emperor.
Suddenly, she was roused from her wandering mental state by a resounding grumble in her gut. She winced, a pocket of air escaping her beak with a resounding belch. Black and white feathers, stained with berry juice and stomach acids, still carrying his flavour, fluttered into the air before they are whisked away by the breeze generated by the tempest above. She grimaced at the sight, before looking at her engorged gut with a look of disappointment. “Not to mention I still need to get off this island so we aren’t a total no-show on the other end… The storm will hopefully pass by the morning. But it means I have to process all of you down as soon as possible, too. Arceus, I don’t even get to savor this because, if I am being honest, you WERE quite delectable…”
Mistral laid back and went quiet as she decided to stop talking to a prey that was no longer around to hear her. Plus, the whole ordeal had her more than a little exhausted. Her eyelids fluttered as her belly cracked and groaned beneath her and she soon drifted off to sleep. As she slept, her gut went into overdrive. Ex-emperor was mulched and compacted down as flesh was stripped off of bone. The once portly emperor filters down as sludge into her intestines, leaving his indigestible feathers, bones, and beak behind. Luckily the island was deserted save for her – the noises and groans her stomach was producing would keep anyone else awake.
She slept through the rest of the day and the following night. At around mid-day, her eyes shot open with a start. “I overslept!”
She sprung up onto her talons, wobbling a bit at her new found weight. Napoleon was nothing more than pudge, energy, and waste at this point. Mistral looked to the sky, and saw that the storm had cleared out overnight. Not wanting to delay any longer, she flapped her wings and, without a full-sized empoleon in tow, though having yet to relive the excess weight, took off with some extra effort into the sky. She reached cruising altitude, soaring over the seas below towards their original destination – only, it was now only her destination. And she still had a long way to go.
As she flew, she began to grow a bit uncomfortable. Her stomach ached, and her innards were full of pressure. “Well, my liege, I suppose this is as far as you’ll go. Duty calls.”
Mistral steadied her wings to glide, and started to contract her stomach and throat. Slowly but surely, the indigestible pellet of the ex-emperor made its way up her throat. The pellet itself was massive. The empoleon was a huge meal, and the clump of bones and feathers she was attempting to spit up was still a fifth of his original size. The bones, beak, and horns scraped her throat, while the clumped up feathers tickled on the way up. The uncomfortable combination caused Mistral to flutter away from her initial flight path due to the distraction. At one point, the whole thing managed to lodge itself in her airway, causing a brief moment of panic until another loud hack pushed it on its way.
Finally, after an agonizingly long retching session, Mistral let out a loud “HURk--!” as she finally managed to cough it up, angling her head downwards so it fell to the ocean below. As it fell, Mistral could see the now-dingy yellow of Napoleon’s trident-like beak, the tip of one of its prongs snapped off and ending up who knows where. She can make out a few bones as well. Part of a fractured skull, a shattered foot still clinging to a tattered piece of his webbed yellow foot, and a few broken ribs jut out from the pellet. But the bulk of it was a wad of black, white, and blue feathers. However, that was all she could examine as the rapidly falling pellet continued getting further and further away. It would eventually hit the ocean surface, its contents ending up totally obliterated by the waves – hardly a funeral fit for royalty.
However, the pellet was only one piece of the puzzle. Mistral still had to let out the rest of him, this time, from her cloaca. She flapped her wings a few times as she relaxed her lower end. White and brown flexed excrement shot from her tailhole, consisting of the powdery remains of bones that made it into her digestive tract, excess fluids her body had new use for, and whatever else her digestive system failed to process of the massive empoleon. It, too, ended up in the ocean below, joining his more solid remains in their funeral at sea.
She shivered mid-flight as the mostly fluid introduction was followed up by more solid waste. She wasn’t used to this, but Napoleon, being a huge meal, had a lot to offer. She beat her wings to steady herself as she felt feathers tickle out of her digestive tract, floating in the breeze as they fell to the ocean below. She gasped in shock as something sharp prodded her on the way out. Glancing back, she saw the missing prong of Napoleon’s horns tumbling to the ocean surface.
“That could’ve been dangerous…” She muttered to herself.
It didn’t stop there. She let out one final deluge, a mix of bird scat shooting out of her with a few more solid objects. A claw or two are first, alongside some ruined yellow cartilage from a webbed foot. Next to go a few chips off the tip of his beak, that tingle on the way out. Finally, a few small, bent, and twisted scraps of metal from his arm blades jab against her rear and tumble out, causing Mistral to let out another uncomfortable huff.
As the final pieces of waste fell to join the rest of Napoleon in his watery grave, Mistral let out a sigh of relief. She found herself a second wind as she rid herself of all that pressure and dead weight. It was so much easier to fly without it.
From there, the trip goes rather smoothly. By evening, she touched down in Slateport, where she was greeted by a rather posh-looking Persian.
“Greetings, miss. You must be… Napoleon’s party?”
The persian looked around… Noting that the rather boisterous empoleon was nowhere to be found.
Mistral looked down and let out a small laugh as she kicked her feet. “Well… About that… We hit a bit of turbulence and one thing quickly led to another. He slipped out of my crop, you see and uh… Didn’t… Exactly make it?”
The persian blinked, looking at the swellow in silence. “He didn’t make it?”
Mistral shook her head. “No, sir, he—” She suddenly stopped herself, feeling a pain in the back of her throat. She started coughing, as she and the Persian both backed away from each other. With a splat, Mistral coughed up the last prong of Napoleon’s trident-beak.
“O- oh… There it is…”
The persian looked at it. A look of horror and shock filled his eyes as he quickly looked back to the swellow.
“You… What?! This is unforgivable! Disgraceful! Impossible! You come with me. Now.”
Mistral gulped nervously, as both her and the persian made their way to the nearby guard station. persian introduced her as Napoleon’s murder, which technically wasn’t 100% wrong but felt overly simplistic to poor Mistral. As she tried to explain herself, she remembered she had a copy of the contract and presented it to the clefable on duty. She looked it over, shaking his head as he read through everything…
“Well… He did legally sign his life away with this, and this is certainly his royal seal… This swellow here has done nothing legally wrong. I… Always knew Napoleon was an impatient man. But to do something so… Hasty? He should have known his overconfidence would catch up with him eventually…”
The persian grumbled discontentedly to himself, waving Mistral away. She found herself a place to stay for the night and passed out after the long and tiresome journey. The next day, she attempted to get into the wedding Napoleon was supposed to be attending. Sadly, the stoutland at the door told her, “No Emperor, no entry.”
So, instead she spent the next day sightseeing. The museum of nautical history, an art festival in the south of town, a tour of the grand lighthouse by the shore… Before she knew it, the sun was about to set on her final day in Slateport. As she made her way to the center of town, she noticed two familiar faces in the distance – Napoleon’s knights, the corviknight and sirfetch'd, had arrived, planning to catch up with Napoleon when the wedding had wrapped up. They quickly noticed her, and her far heftier figure.
“Where is he?”
She looked a bit bashful.
“What did you do?!”
“Well… It’s a bit of a long story…”
By nightfall, the two knights were on the way back to Eaulandia, trying to figure out how in the world the kingdom would select a new Emperor without an heir apparent.
And, after she bid farewell, a now pudgier Mistral flew her way back to the nearest Swellow Air post. She felt bad, but at least she got off the hook… It certainly wasn’t her first mistake. Nor would it be her last. But it did mean that her safety streak would reset again, much to her disappointment… More So for having to fill out paperwork to file an incident report than anything else. In the long run, it never mattered too much. Customers always came knocking. Speaking of, after a few hours of filling out a seemingly endless number of forms, she heard the bell ring and looked up from the desk as a Quilava entered the lobby.
\n\t\t\t\t\t~Zarlex~ His half of the art trade~