Pokemon Paldea [349-350] (Patreon)

Chapter 349: Setting Out, Departure for the Galar Region!

A moment later.

Having its nap rudely interrupted, the Moltres, who outwardly acted all justified but was actually very guilty inside, returned to the ground.

What else could it do?

Compared to its old days in the wild—fretting over which volcano to grace that day, having to fight wild Pokémon living in the volcano before it could seize territory—life on the farm not only offered endless food, but every Pokémon here was a treasure. It absolutely loved it.

It had been assimilated by the farm's leisurely ambience—how could that be wrong!

Looking at the Moltres, neck stiff and proud, with none of the arrogance and razor-sharp edge from their first meeting, Lucas sighed helplessly.

He straightforwardly explained that he'd be away for a few days and, because he needed Dragonite's flying speed, he'd have to entrust Moltres with guarding Corviknight from possible attacks by that family of Tinkaton.

Lucas figured Moltres would accept the task with excitement—or at least puff up and declare that Corviknight and the others were its little brothers.

But to his surprise, after hearing the instructions, Moltres's first reaction was shock—nine-tenths disbelief mixed in.

I have to get up at six or seven in the morning!?

No way, I don't want that!

At least let me sleep one more hour!

Lucas was speechless: "What if your two siblings see you like this?"

"Gwah gwah gwah!"

Mimicking his words like a parrot, Moltres curled its beak. That irritable, sparky puffball and that vain bird it had a type advantage over were not its siblings.

Moltres considered itself a dignified Legendary. So what if it slept more?

 If those two dared laugh at it, it would just beat them up and be done with it.

If not for worrying about missing breakfast every day, it could sleep from sunset to sunrise, then from sunrise back to a nap until sunset.

If only it had a bed overflowing with magma—that would be perfect.

Not that oversized birdhouse hanging from the eaves—the kind humans put out to shelter wild city-dwelling Pokémon from wind and rain—completely unworthy of its noble status.

However, in front of Lucas, who held the power over its food, even with the hardest bones, Moltres could only yield like a snake pinched at seven inches and accept the temporary assignment.

"Alright, alright. When I get back from the Crown Tundra I'll make you something delicious. Seems there's some special kind of radish there…I'll stew a soup for you."

Patting the sulky Moltres—Lucas calmly drew a big, round pie in words.

And it had to be said: Moltres totally ate that up.

Its mood shifted from overcast to cloudy to sunny in an instant. It puffed up heroically, declaring the task was none but its own; whatever Tinkaton or Titan-slayer or Titan-smasher—one Flame Thrower and all those ghoulies would scatter!

After assigning Moltres the job—Lucas went to the farming, ranch, and lake zones to inform all the Pokémon he'd be heading to the Crown Tundra.

Given the tundra's harsh cold and unusually high density of Legendary Pokémon—

Like the Galarian Moltres, Zapdos, and Articuno near that big tree; the Regis—Regice, Registeel, Regirock, Regidrago, Regieleki; the steed-riding King Calyrex at the Crown Shrine, and the spectral Glastrier and Spectrier roaming free—

To be safe, Lucas not only notified everyone but also brought a portion of his main and non-main team along.

Though Calyrex is Grass-type, and it was a pity, after weighing everything, he didn't bring Serperior this time.

The main reason: the Crown Tundra is blanketed in snow year-round, heavy stratocumulus often blocking sunlight for long periods.

Serperior is a snake Pokémon, after all.

Cold environments are already bad for it, and with sunlight—the source of its solar energy—often blocked, even worse.

Regretful as it was, Serperior was clearly better off in a tropical climate like Alola, or in Paldea during spring and summer.

By the time Lucas got home, his belt was full of Poké Balls.

As always, he asked Oranguru to handle some daily tasks while he was gone.

Fortunately, the farm now ran smoothly. All Oranguru had to worry about were morning Moomoo Milk and goat milk, and the Pokémon's three meals.

Elsewhere, the Pokémon had modularized their chores and kept things running on their own.

Oranguru smiled wise and reliable, patting its chest: "Young master, don't worry. My job is to solve your problems, assist you, and free your energy for what you want to do."

…

July 30, afternoon.

Riding Dragonite, Lucas confirmed directions by map and phone, then Dragonite picked up speed toward the region connected to Paldea by sea—the Galar region.

Near dusk, Dragonite landed smoothly outside a quiet southern Galar town.

The town was Wedgehurst—the must-stop before taking a Flying Taxi to the Crown Tundra.

Though Wedgehurst wasn't large or prosperous, it hosted Professor Magnolia's lab.

Nearby Postwick, hometown of the undefeated Galar Champion Leon, famed for never losing an official match since debut.

All Galar trainers set Leon as their goal. Postwick, in their eyes, had a special halo.

Many trainers came to Wedgehurst, then made a pilgrimage to Postwick.

Lucas wasn't interested in Postwick or Leon, but he did care a bit about the Legendary sleeping in the Slumbering Weald nearby.

Still, his main goal was the Crown Tundra, so he didn't plan to visit the Weald.

Since it was evening and the Flying Taxi had closed, Lucas decided to rest at the Wedgehurst inn for the night.

But on his way to the inn, a pair of brothers by the roadside caught his attention.

Chapter 350: Arrival at the Crown Tundra, The Big Changes in Nemona's Group of Four!

Two boys in hospital gowns, no older than ten—too young to receive starter Pokémon.

No.

Even if they got starters, sick kids could barely travel and adventure.

The wild is nothing like city life; the stamina a trainer spends in battles is something a sick child can't handle.

Though both were native Galar kids, and likely from different cities, their hair colors were surprisingly different.

The older, more mature-looking boy had short brown hair; the more slender boy, who didn't dare run fast even while playing, had eye-catching golden hair.

Lucas shifted his gaze from the two hospital-gowned boys upward.

Behind a small courtyard lining the street stood a white building with a plaque: "Wedgehurst Medical Convalescent Home."

Lucas looked suddenly enlightened.

Judging from the scenery along the way—

Wedgehurst's quiet, leisurely vibe made it ideal for recovery; with nearby Postwick and its enthusiastic ranching, nutrition supplies were always at hand.

A convalescent home here made sense.

In the courtyard, under a nurse's care, brown-haired Tommy and his blond friend John got a precious bit of outside time.

Pent up in the ward so long, the two treasured it, playing with their toys.

John held a Charizard figure just a bit larger than his small hand; Tommy had a Duraludon.

They shared a room. Tommy was from Ballonlea, John was a Wedgehurst local.

Thinking himself older than John, even though he also loved the Charizard toy and admired Champion Leon, Tommy let John have Charizard and chose to look after his frailer little brother.

But after a short while—without even running—John's breathing turned labored.

Clutching his chest, he gulped air, his throat wheezing like a broken reed organ.

Tommy and the nurse tensed up at once and hurried John back inside.

On the street, Lucas had watched for barely two minutes and wore a thoughtful look.

Two sick Galar kids… he felt like he'd seen them somewhere.

But it was just a brief pause. With a sigh of regret, Lucas moved on.

Sickness is inevitable, even in this world.

Though the tech tree is a bit bent, thanks to Pokémon, medical technology in their world should be advanced.

Even so, colds, fevers—basic illnesses—still exist. The blond boy's symptoms looked like asthma, but perhaps not exactly.

Just from the passion with which they held their Pokémon toys, Lucas could feel their love for Pokémon.

That was why he sighed. As mentioned—

A weak and sickly trainer would almost never get the chance to travel—tantamount to suicide.

Even if parents didn't stop it, the League would.

But this was just one slice of life glimpsed in a few minutes. Lucas could only sigh and head toward the inn.

He'd sleep there tonight.

"Phew~"

After checking in, having traveled half a day, Lucas slotted the room card into the wall slot and sat on the soft bed with a comfortable sigh.

He then released the Pokémon from his Poké Balls.

Though the balls' inner environment was decent, they preferred resting outside.

Moments later, Luxray, Mimikyu, Ceruledge, Swampert, Dragonite, Arcanine, Vulpix, Victini, and Comfey appeared in the room.

Aside from must-bring Dragonite for transit, the medic Comfey, and the super battery Victini, the rest were either mains or strong seconds like Arcanine; even Vulpix made the cut because the Crown Tundra's environment suited it.

As for the Sandslash couple, they'd recently nested deep in the ice cellar. Only one came to meals, always packing a portion for its mate.

Lucas suspected something was up and didn't bring them.

He carried nine Pokémon.

Luckily he'd booked the largest suite, so big ones like Dragonite and Arcanine could move around.

He then took out Luxray's new round scratcher bed from his space backpack.

Also Dragonite's bedtime plush, Arcanine's chew-only slippers so it wouldn't destroy the décor, etc.

In short order, farm oddities filled the room as if he lived there.

Luxray stretched lazily on the scratcher.

Swampert practiced controlled punches on a heavy bag Dragonite hung from the ceiling; Victini queued up, eager to try.

Arcanine lay beside Luxray, wagging its thick tail, gnawing on its brand-new paw-slippers.

Comfey floated in the middle, releasing fragrance that eased fatigue and soothed hearts.

Dragonite cuddled the fluffy, adorable Vulpix; Mimikyu looked a bit regretful that Serperior couldn't join.

Yes, Mimikyu labeled this trip a long-awaited outing.

But it also knew extreme cold wasn't just unfavorable for Serperior—like ordinary snakes that hibernate to survive winter.

Though a Pokémon could resist hibernation by consuming energy, in the Crown Tundra—colder than Blueberry Academy's simulated snow peaks—Serperior would have no energy.

Better to leave it on the farm, and they'd all worry less.

As the Pokémon busied themselves, Lucas checked his pack—gear, food, water.

Though tundra snow could quench thirst in a pinch, he'd avoid it unless necessary.

Worst case, Swampert could produce water; drinking it straight from its mouth took some mental prep—but he'd done that already.

No problem.

If supplies were lacking, he'd stock up in Wedgehurst or nearby Postwick before entering the Tundra.

Thanks to past travel experience—and Oranguru's oversight—he was well prepared.

Before bathing, he took out his phone and messaged Nemona, telling her he'd reached Wedgehurst and would take a Corviknight Flying Taxi to the Crown Tundra in the morning.

A small comfort for those who'd been on edge.

Soon, before he could put the phone down, it chimed repeatedly, even drawing the Pokémon's attention.

Nemona: Oooh! I'll do my best!

Arven: S-save… save me!

Penny: …You can actually buy train tickets to the Crown Tundra. I hacked Galar's weather center—snow will start tonight and some areas may have blizzards. With erratic weather, Flying Taxis might be suspended.

Eri: Teacher Lucas, is there any way to make my punches hit Ghost-type Pokémon?

Peony: Boohoo, you're finally here, my soul-brother!

After reading: "…"

He reflexively ignored the fifth message and replied to the four students.

He praised Nemona, soothed Arven, thanked Penny for intel.

As for Eri's question, he thought, then typed:

Lucas: With the moves Foresight or Odor Sleuth, or with the Ability Scrappy, Normal- and Fighting-type moves can hit Ghosts.

Message sent, he set the phone down and then froze, face turning odd.

That girl...

Was she planning to punch ghosts?

So brave.

Luckily, the Freezington incident wasn't actually a haunting—no fear of her throwing her life away.

Stretching, he headed to the bath to soak and recover, preparing for tomorrow's trek.

Ceruledge emerged just then, nodding lightly.

It had adjusted the water to the perfect temperature with its flames.

Thinking of how it worried the water might be too hot and used its Fire-type sensitivity to tune it, Lucas felt warm inside.

"Thanks for always helping."

Smiling at Ceruledge, Lucas undressed and went in, rinsing before the soak.

As water pattered and steam fogged the glass, the Pokémon didn't notice one of their companions vanish.

Mimikyu used its talent to sneak toward the bath, hoping to soak together.

But before it could slip into a shadow, Lucas's calm voice came from inside: "Don't think I can't see you."

Mimikyu froze. The Pokémon all turned, the bathroom echo magnifying his voice.

"Meow-ow~"

Luxray rose helplessly, strutted to the door, clamped Mimikyu by the scruff, and carried it away.

After Lucas donned fresh sleepwear and received hot air drying from Dragonite, he lay back comfortably and drifted off amid his Pokémon.

A good night's sleep.

…

Wedgehurst Station.

"Just like Penny said."

Carrying a bag of thick winter gear to change into upon arrival, Lucas looked at a bright red notice and sighed.

"Due to weather, Corviknight Flying Taxis to the Crown Tundra are temporarily suspended. For urgent travel, please take the train."

With Victini perched on his head—curious about the station's architecture different from Unova and Paldea—and adorable Vulpix drawing near-100% turn rates, Lucas walked to the ticket counter.

Perhaps because Wedgehurst was a retiree-friendly town, the ticket clerk was a kindly old lady.

Seeing a customer, she handed the half-knit scarf to a nearby Caterpie helper and looked up.

Her gentle gaze landed on Lucas, the Victini on his head, and the Vulpix insisting on being carried.

She showed pleasant surprise, then genuine warmth: "Such cute Pokémon! Where are you headed?"

"Thank you."

Toward friendly people, Lucas smiled; Victini and Vulpix beamed at the praise.

"I'm going to the Crown Tundra. Are there any trains there now?"

"Yes, yes."

Smiling brighter at their cuteness—though missing Caterpie's jealous look—she put on reading glasses and checked the schedule. "There's a steam train at 8:30 to the Crown Tundra. Arrival around one or two in the afternoon. Would you like a ticket?"

"Steam train?"

Lucas blinked, recalling Galar's fame for steam tech and cities like Motostoke, an industrial city of steam engines.

"I'll take it, please. One ticket."

"Alright, Pokémon under one meter don't need tickets. That'll be 2,500 Poké Dollars."

After payment, she handed him the ticket and gently reminded him:

"Young man, the notice says the Tundra's weather may be erratic the next few days. Don't push yourself. If you're in danger, call for help."

He paused—he already knew from Penny—but still thanked her: "I understand. Thank you."

After the farewell, guided by signage, he found a retro, steam-era-beautiful locomotive.

Doors were open.

Ten minutes to departure.

With nothing to do outside, he boarded with Victini and Vulpix.

Inside, the car was empty—surprisingly so.

Victini and Vulpix, excited by the empty car, chased each other in the aisle.

Though there were no other passengers, they might disturb staff; Lucas scooped them up and set them by him with some snacks.

He pondered.

As the old lady said—

Erratic weather, plus the tundra's harsh cold—

Likely drove adventurers and would-be mountaineers to cancel or postpone plans.

Hence the sparse platforms, and an empty car.

Soon enough—no cancellation—no delays.

With a powerful, penetrating whistle, under Victini and Vulpix's delighted cries, the steam train rumbled, its axles clacking rhythmically against the rails.

White steam hissed crisply from the release valve.

Amidst the symphony of sounds, the train set off smoothly toward the distant Crown Tundra.

…

Hours later, as the old lady said, at 1:30 p.m., the train stopped at the Crown Tundra Station in the northwest.

Stepping out with Vulpix and Victini, a cold wind blew.

Vulpix yipped with joy, like it had come home, hopping in the snow.

Victini, brimming with fire, didn't mind the chill.

As for cold-intolerant Lucas, he'd already changed into thick winter gear, scarf around his neck, warm hat on.

A bit bulky, but truly warm.

At least the wind here couldn't penetrate.

"Phew~"

He inhaled the chilly air and exhaled white fog, watching it dissolve into the sky, then looked around.

Everywhere was white. Tall, evergreen trees stood stubbornly; branches laden with snow—shake a trunk and you'd be buried.

The air was fresh, with a faint snowy scent and pine.

Far off, mountains rose, jagged and endless; the Tundra's complex terrain could easily get one lost—without rescue, one might meet misfortune.

It seemed the snow had stopped; the blue sky showed, a few white clouds matching the mountains—a preserved, pristine beauty far from cities.

"Just now on the train, it was snowing hard. Like Penny and the old lady said—this fickle weather…"

After a sigh, he glanced at Vulpix and Victini playing in the snow and simply waited on the plain.

He'd messaged Nemona and the others before disembarking.

By now, they should be close.

Freezington was not far.

As expected, after a few minutes, a massive figure approached with heavy steps.

It was a Pokémon nearly identical to an elephant, its bronze body covered in dark green patina, with irregular bronze patterns all over.

Most striking were the huge bronze plates atop its head.

Copperajah. Pure Steel-type, with Sheer Force or Heavy Metal.

A few people rode on its back.

As it drew closer, Lucas saw the passengers clearly.

Nemona and her three friends—whom he hadn't seen in a month—and Copperajah's trainer, Peony.

Copperajah's heavy steps drew the little ones' attention; Victini and Vulpix froze, staring wide-eyed at the behemoth.

When it stopped before Lucas, he could feel its power.

So this Copperajah was Peony's ace—worthy of Galar's former Champion.

After a silent nod to that, he looked at the four students waving excitedly.

And froze.

Panda-like dark eye bags, faces pale from many sleepless nights and constant worry, lips visibly chapped—

The stark contrast from their energetic pre-summer-break selves was shocking.

No way—did some Froslass sneak into the village and drain their vital energy?