A mont 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 eting, 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 excitent—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 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 assignnt.
"Alright, alright. When I get back from the Crown Tundra I'll make you sothing delicious. Seems there's so 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 Fla 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 ti.
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 environnts 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 sumr.
By the ti Lucas got ho, his belt was full of Poké Balls.
As always, he asked Oranguru to handle so 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 als.
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 confird 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, hotown of the undefeated Galar Champion Leon, fad 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 ca 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.
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