In some ways, the Middle Ages in the Pokémon world weren't that different from the real world.
Aside from the existence of creatures called "Pokémon," the two were nearly identical, with people still divided into rigid classes.
Dukes, nobles, commoners, slaves…
Among the entourage the old king arranged for his son were thirty-five slaves, tasked with housework and heavy labor.
Cliff was one of them.
He had once lived in another kingdom, but after its defeat in war, he became a slave of the Kingdom of Aindook.
Now he traveled here with the rest of the caravan's slaves. After all that had happened, Cliff felt his life had become hopeless.
Not only had he been reduced to slavery, but he now faced hunger, thin clothing in bitter weather, and the looming threat of freezing to death.
Perhaps soon he would leave this world forever, on some cold, forgotten morning.
Cliff thought about this while chewing on a piece of hard brown bread.
Suddenly, a loud voice echoed not far away.
It was Ryan, the knight.
"Everyone, gather here!"
Cliff tucked the half-eaten bread into his pocket and followed the others forward with a blank, weary expression.
Before long, everyone who was able had assembled, save for the gravely injured.
Through the crowd, Cliff spotted the third prince of the Kingdom of Aindook, the young man who would soon become their lord.
For a moment, their eyes seemed to meet, but the prince quickly looked away.
Though still young, his serious expression gave him a certain authority.
"Everyone, please be quiet," Cliff heard the prince say.
Lucien's gaze swept across the crowd before he continued in a steady voice:
"After today, I believe you all understand our situation."
"Because of the blizzard, we lost our way. Our current food reserves are no longer enough to carry us to our destination."
"However, there is one thing to be thankful for, we still have enough to last through this winter."
"But this winter will be long. In the next two months, the temperature will continue to drop, and I fear these tents alone will not withstand the coming cold."
At those words, many faces paled. Despair flickered in their eyes.
"But fortunately, I have found a way," Lucien declared, his expression firm. "And I swear, on the honor of the royal family of Aindook, I will do everything in my power to keep every one of you alive."
Hearing this, the people were taken aback. Yet slowly, they found themselves stirred by his words.
"His Highness Lucien…" someone whispered.
Lucien's gaze swept over the crowd, and he continued firmly:
"For the next month, our carpenter Tucker will be working hard to cut down trees and build houses to shield us from the coming cold wave.
"But Tucker's strength alone won't be enough. So I hope each of you will contribute, whether it's fishing, gathering berries, foraging for food, or helping to collect timber and raise the walls. If we can endure this winter together, everything else will follow."
"Yes, we can do it!"
The clear voice of a girl, no more than ten years old, rang out from the crowd. Her small face shone with fighting spirit.
Lucien looked at her and gave a nod of approval.
At that, the weary group, once lost and leaderless, suddenly felt as if they had found their backbone. For now, at least, they were no longer wandering in confusion; they knew what needed to be done.
"Also, there is one more matter," Lucien said.
All eyes turned back to him.
"From today onward, there will be no slaves in this territory."
The declaration sent a ripple of shock through the gathering.
The commoners exchanged startled glances, but it was the thirty-five slaves whose faces changed the most, shock, disbelief, and even fear.
No more slaves… What did that mean? Did this lord believe they were nothing but wasted rations? Did he mean to have them executed?
"In the name of the lord of this land," Lucien declared, his voice clear and steady, "I grant you the status of free men."
A hush fell.
"From now on, if you work hard, you will one day have a house of your own, and perhaps, in time, a field of your own to till."
The slaves who had just been paralyzed with fear now stared wide-eyed at one another, struggling to believe their ears.
Were they… dreaming?
Cliff, standing among them, couldn't hold back. His voice trembled as he asked,
"Your Highness Lucien… is this truly real?"
"Of course," Lucien replied, his expression calm. But then his tone shifted, his words hanging in the air like a weight.
"However…"
Everyone held their breath.
Lucien smiled faintly and finished,
"All of this depends on us surviving this winter."
People finally breathed a sigh of relief.
The way they looked at the young prince before them had clearly changed; there was respect, gratitude, and even a spark of excitement in their eyes.
Cliff stood frozen in place.
Not a slave… from this moment onward, he was a free man! No longer shackled by chains or owned like property.
There was no need to explain what such words meant to him.
Cliff's eyes filled with tears. 'Wonderful… truly wonderful…'
From now on, he vowed, he would follow His Highness Lucien until death.
Lucien noticed the look on his people's faces. In truth, that had been part of his intention.
Watching the system panel before him as the notifications flickeredm[Public Support +1], [+1], [Satisfaction +1], [+1], Lucien couldn't help but allow a faint smile.
But there was no time to linger.
"Alright," he said, his voice firm, "for the sake of our parents and children surviving this winter safely, I ask everyone to give what strength you can!"
Time was short. The task ahead was heavy.
The camp quickly stirred to action.
Women hoisted baskets and went into the forest to gather berries and forage for food.
The stronger men followed the knights to the treeline, ready to cut timber for shelters.
Lucien finally exhaled once the crowd dispersed.
It had been his first time standing before them like this, and though he was nervous, after all, he had been nothing more than an ordinary man in his previous life, the response he had received was proof his effort had succeeded.
When he returned to his tent, the panel showed he had already collected another 50 Satisfaction Points.
Almost there. With 200 points, he could finally unlock the first piece of basic technology.
Lucien's gaze drifted to the Dratini curled up beneath a blanket, fast asleep. His thoughts grew heavy.
In truth, their current situation was far from safe, even with a fledgling territory established.
If a powerful Pokémon, something like a Tyranitar, wandered into the valley, then even if all seventy-eight of them stood together, they wouldn't be able to resist.
That left only one option: he himself needed to grow stronger.
Lucien began to consider training Dratini.
After all, for now he was the only person in the entire territory who could truly be called a trainer.
But the path was riddled with problems.
First, as a quasi-legendary Pokémon, Dratini was infamous for being a late bloomer. By the time it evolved into Dragonite, the grass growing over their graves would likely be meters high.
Would it be wiser, then, to capture a fast-growing Pokémon, something like a Butterfree?
Lucien's brow furrowed as he thought it over.
Second, this era had no Pokémon Centers, no specialized doctors, no prepared medicine for Pokémon wounds.
If Dratini were injured in training, there would be no treatment, no recovery.
The thought left Lucien with a heavy sense of pressure.
Compared to other transmigrators who had arrived in bright and bustling modern Pokémon worlds, his path forward felt like walking a tightrope over an endless void.