"Ah, forgive me, young man," the man said—polite, but with a respectable air of authority.
"It was my mistake. You're forgiven, Mr. Stone," William said. "My name's William. It's nice to meet you, sir."
He held out his hand. Joseph shook it.
"William...Yes, I've heard of you. You own Neptune Shipping, yes?"
"I do."
"Well, William, since fate decided to have us bump into each other so suddenly…" Joseph said, "I suppose I should be blunt. How much would you be willing to sell Neptune shipping for?"
William stopped himself from rolling his eyes.
"Could you put a price on selling your child?"
"Hmm?" Joseph shook his head. "Never. My son is my pride and joy. He just recently completed his gym challenge. I'm very proud of him. Soon, he will be coming to these events."
"I guess we think alike then. I'm afraid I can't put a price on Neptune Shipping—that company is my pride and joy, my child." William said.
Joseph laughed heartily, giving William a few rough pats on the shoulder. "Well said, well said. I never really thought of it that way—but I suppose I think the same of my Devon Corp."
"Although, I wouldn't be opposed to a partnership." William added.
"Partnership?"
"I understand you're constantly transporting cargo and items across the region. And while I'm sure you have your own methods—I can guarantee they're not as safe as my ships."
And he knew that because he had already attacked some of Devon Corp's cargo. Not enough to draw attention and retaliation—but certainly enough to create that feeling: doubt. William had already planned on meeting Joseph today—just not so suddenly as he had.
"You can guarantee your ships won't be attacked?"
"No," William shook his head. "I can guarantee your ships won't be attacked successfully. Our ships are designed for protection, and our Pokemon are trained for battle. The trainers we hire are competent and professional. That's the reason why we've become so popular."
Also, when you deliberately attack your competitors and run them out of business.
Joseph adopted a thoughtful look. "I'll have to think about it, bring it up with the other key members—but it sounds like a good idea."
He glanced to the side, suddenly noticing something—or someone.
"Ah! Perfect timing!" he quickly scurried away and grabbed someone, turning him to face William. William froze.
"William, I'd like you to meet the COO of Devon Corp. Maxie."
William shook Maxie's hand. It was freezing—as if Maxie were a cold-blooded reptile.
"It's nice to meet you."
"If not for this guy," Joseph said, "Devon Corp wouldn't be half of what it is."
Maxie didn't react to the compliment, continuing to stare straight through William with his two cold eyes behind the rims of his glasses.
"We were just discussing how reliable Neptune Shipping is. Maybe in the future, they could ship some of our products," Joseph added, sensing the tension and trying to lighten the mood.
"I much prefer land transport," Maxie said. "The seas are cold and mysterious—unreliable. There's too much space to account for every factor."
"Not our ships," William replied. "We haven't been successfully attacked once."
"Well, maybe you just haven't been tested enough." Maxie challenged.
"I'm looking forward to the day that comes—if it comes."
"It might come sooner than you think. Your company is getting awfully popular these days. There are many jealous people who want to take what's yours. Be careful."
William laughed. "Those people are stupid. There's more than enough resources and space to go around for everyone. There is so much land as well as water."
Maxie's left eye twitched.
He turned back to Joseph. "I'll be seeing you both."
William continued the same dance for an hour: listen, introduce, smile, promote, compliment, laugh. He spoke to all the important people he needed to speak to.
A few potential investors, some potential cargo deals, and other rich folk who looked like they would enjoy a cruise.
After a couple of hours had passed, he was already exhausted—it was a much different ballgame than battling with Pokemon.
He decided to take a short breather before the dinner took place. He slipped into a nearby hallway—it was empty—and regained his bearings.
His feet ached from standing still for so long, while his neck was tense from constantly looking up and down while making eye contact with people. Speaking of his eyes, it felt like he hadn't blinked in two hours. The combination of speaking and the dry alcohol made his throat feel like the sahara desert.
William took in his surroundings. It was almost laughable how even a small, unassuming corridor still held the same extravagance and wealth as the entrance. There was more wealth here combined than Team Aqua's base.
Still the same red and gold colouring, the same burning lamps—hissing quietly. There were no tapestries here. Instead, portraits of past members of the Crestwell family hung up, protected behind polished glass.
Each of the portraits—even the newer ones—were made from paint. Extremely detailed and intricate—bringing out the best features for each of the portraits.
Each of the portraits had their distinctive blue hair—just like Wallace. Some of them had rough and rugged faces with scars from wars—although they were still handsome—, while others had attractive faces unblemished by any sort of war. It painted a vivid picture when the region went through tough times. But although some of these faces were unblemished, it didn't take anything away, as their achievements were certainly the opposite.
Those with scars and rough features typically had the military achievements noted below their name, while the others held various positions of importance:
Elite Four, Businessman, Pioneer, University Dean, Lead Professor, Champion. A family so perfect and a family so decorated it almost didn't seem real.
Just as he turned to face the last portrait, a figure walked in.
"Despite how good the portraits are, they should've just used a photo. They never managed to catch the sharpness in my father's eyes," a voice said. "No, I suppose it would look weird—a dozen portraits, and then one photo. Tradition is more important, especially in my family."
It was Wallace. Wallace Crestwell.
"Champion Wallace." William said, surprised. He made to bow, but Wallace stopped him.
"No need for all that bowing crap when we're alone," Wallace laughed. "It's nice to finally meet you, William. Your company has been doing me a great favour."
"You know me?"
"Of course, Who do you think invited you? Thanks to you, Team Aqua and those other pirate groups have managed to be contained. Poseidon is still a problem though…" he muttered that last part to himself.
He glanced next to where William stood, at the portrait of his father.
Robert Crestwell
Gym Leader, Elite Four, Champion
Born XXXX
"Must've been a great man, your father. All those accomplishments—especially Champion. I heard he has done a lot for this region. You must be happy you're following in his footsteps."
Wallace laughed hollowly. "You would think. My father was a man obsessed with legacy. When he stepped down as Champion, he saw it fit to mold me into his perfect successor. He trained me until my throat bled from giving commands, and my Pokemon were exhausted. He wanted me to be another version of him…"
"When I was old enough, I finally mustered up the courage to go against his perfect plan. I defied him. I started participating in beauty contests. I became Gym Leader—but that was all I was going to be. I never planned to become Champion." Wallace said, eyes twinkling sadly.
"What changed that, then?" William asked.
"Well, I suppose I set aside all my grievances with my father…and decided to do what was best for the region."
William nodded, "That's very admirable. If you don't mind me asking, is your father still here?"
"Oh," Wallace waved a hand, "He is. I wasn't the best son, so you can imagine I gave him lots of stress. He made the decision to move away to the countryside to help with his health several years ago. You know, get away from the loud city, have a change in scenery."
"He did travel over when I became Champion, however. Didn't even congratulate me or smile—just gave me a sharp nod, as if I was doing it for him, as if I was fulfilling my destiny or something." Wallace shook his head, laughing. "I didn't do it for him. I did it for the region."
"You'll have to forgive me," Wallace said. "Seems I've overshared. These parties exhaust my mind. It feels like people are grabbing onto me and clinging on for dear life, and I feel it both physically and mentally."
"Why do you think I'm here?" William smirked. "As for your grievances with your family, I understand. Family can be like that sometimes."
"Hmmm. What about you? What about your family?" Wallace asked.
"My family…it's not that interesting as yours. One of them is dead—died ages ago when I was a kid. The other, I haven't spoken to in years. But, they are alive..." William said. "That I know for sure."
"Well, I don't drink anymore, but if I had one, I would raise a toast. To fucked up family!" Wallace said, his voice echoing through the walls as he raised his hands in a toast-like gesture.
"To fucked up family," William said with a smile. "More alike than you know." he muttered.