"Oh my? I didn't expect to actually et soone here!" The refined young man exclaid in surprise.
Beside him, the old man wore an expression of indifference, speaking in a teaching tone, "Master Steven, in the wild, safety must always co first. People are the most unpredictable."
Steven waved his hand dismissively, "Oh co on, Alfonse, you make it sound like the world is full of villains. Besides, isn't that person wearing a League trainer's uniform?"
As Steven pointed toward Sieg, Sieg was already staring back at the two in shock.
From their conversation, Sieg caught words that left him utterly stunned, words he almost couldn't believe he had heard correctly.
Steven?
Steven Stone?????
The future Champion of Hoenn?
Still reeling from the recent attack, Sieg swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on Steven.
He bore a refined, gentle smile. He was dressed in a noble-looking suit, a red silk tie adorning his collar, his striking, turquoise hair gleaming under the light.
Forcing himself to stand, Sieg tried to conceal any signs of weakness as he said, "Friends, I don't have any ill intentions. I just happened to pass by and was drawn here by the sound of battle."
Steven nodded with a look of sudden understanding, as though he believed Sieg's words.
But Alfonse wasn't so easily fooled. Though his face carried a polite smile, his sharp eyes and the pressure of his presence pressed down on Sieg, making it difficult to breathe.
Even more oppressive was the aura radiating from the Bastiodon at his side, a suffocating pressure that weighed heavily on Sieg and his Pokémon alike.
"Hehe, young man, since you an no harm, then I must apologize for my attack just now," Alfonse said, though his tone carried no hint of true apology. On the contrary, it sounded almost threatening, clearly intended to drive Sieg away.
Sieg's mind raced. To et Steven here, by sheer chance, was an opportunity too rare to simply let slip by.
In that instant, a brilliant plan ford in his head.
Suppressing his excitent, Sieg forced a faint look of helplessness and staggered forward.
His unsteady steps looked as if he might collapse at any mont. Sure enough, after only a few ters, a sudden wave of weakness overtook him, and he slumped to the ground.
Thanks to years of painstaking practice in the art of deception, Sieg was confident in his performance.
He was certain that they wouldn't be able to see through his act.
As expected, before Sieg could even continue his performance, Steven could no longer hold back.
"Alfonse! How could you do this?" Steven's words carried reproach.
The very next mont, Steven hurried forward, crouching down to carefully help Sieg up.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" he asked with genuine concern.
When his eyes fell on Sieg's tattered trainer's clothes and dust-covered body, Steven's expression grew even softer, filled with guilt and sympathy.
Sieg lowered his head, the corners of his mouth curving ever so slightly in triumph.
He knew his plan had succeeded.
Night fell, and the desert air grew cold. The Pokémon burrowed into the sand for warmth.
On a flat stretch of ground stood a magnificent silver tent.
Outside, Alfonse sat cross-legged on Bastiodon's back, scanning the surroundings with sharp eyes. He turned his gaze toward the tent, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.
"Master Steven is still too inexperienced, too unguarded against the evils of the world. I pray for this to end well."
Inside the tent, Steven was tending to Sieg with ticulous care.
"Sorry, we acted rashly just now..." Steven's words trailed off, his tone heavy, especially as his eyes fell on the bandages wrapped around Sieg's chest.
Sieg's face was pale as snow, but he forced a smile. "It's alright. Thank you for taking in, otherwise I would have been left to freeze in the desert..."
"By the way, my na is Steven Stone. What's your na?" Steven introduced himself first before asking.
Sieg's eyes flickered for a mont before he answered, "I'm Sieg. I have no family na."
Steven blinked in mild surprise. No family na ant Sieg wasn't from any clan or noble bloodline. In other words, he was an ordinary person.
But Steven didn't look down on him for it. With his status, even mbers of great families held little difference in his eyes compared to common folk.
Only heirs of the Elite families, like himself, who were being cultivated as future leaders, were exceptions.
The two young n chatted casually.
Steven set aside the elegant nobility he usually displayed, showing instead a warm, approachable deanor.
"I see now. I didn't expect you to be a breeder, Sieg! Actually, I think I've heard your na before when chatting with my father," Steven said suddenly, snapping his fingers in realization.
"But wait, what's a breeder like you doing here in the Desert? Why venture so far out?" he asked curiously.
After all, most breeders rarely went into the wild. Even when they needed rare materials, they usually relied on commissions from the Breeder Association or through trainers.
Few risked their lives in the wilderness. Breeders dedicated most of their ti to research and nurturing Pokémon, leaving little to no ti for combat training.
As a result, they were usually easy opponents in battle.
Steven's thoughts reflected what most people would think.
"I may be a breeder," Sieg said, his voice calm yet firm, "but my true dream is to beco a powerful trainer!"
He held Murkrow in his arms, carefully straightening its ssy feathers. Among his Pokémon, Murkrow had taken the worst damage, its level being the lowest.
Seeing this, Steven's guilt deepened. "Don't worry. The Stone family has special dicines for healing injuries. Your Pokémon will be fine."
Their conversation gradually drifted toward Pokémon.
Steven glanced at Murkrow. "This Murkrow... is it from Johto?" he asked, though his tone carried a confident certainty. Though he had never seen one in person, his vast knowledge made recognition imdiate.
That was the privilege of noble families, access to knowledge far beyond what ordinary trainers could touch.
A commoner might never even recognize a Pokémon from another region.
Sieg gently massaged Murkrow's wings. Perhaps finding it too comfortable, the bird soon fell into a deep sleep, tucking its sharp beak beneath its feathers, curling into a small black ball.
Murkrow had two favorite sleeping styles. One was perching quietly on a branch, and the other was curling into a ball just like now.
It was Steven's first ti witnessing such a sight, and unknowingly, he found himself intrigued.
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