Ron decided to craft a reason for his future calf purchases.
"They won't stay long," he said. "Once mature, they'll be sent to Kalos."
"Who?" Marnie turned.
"The calves," Ron pointed.
Marnie was surprised. "Why? Don't they already have Miltank in Kalos? These calves won't stand a chance."
"Kalos doesn't have this animal—they love it," Ron improvised awkwardly.
"As pets?" Marnie paused, struck by déjà vu.
Ron glanced at the calves—so intelligent-looking—and braced to lie further. But Marnie smiled softly.
"I remember now! Your grandfather said the same thing. They must really adore these calves. I do too—their quiet eyes are so wise… Though as pets, they can't come indoors, right?"
"…" Ron stayed silent.
"Well, if Kalos has Pokémon like Miltank, their tech must be advanced," Marnie mused. "Everyone's probably wealthy—with big yards for pets!"
"Probably," Ron nodded.
"Then that's settled! Come anytime you need more," Marnie said, waving as she left.
Ron exhaled in relief. At least the fib worked. He glanced at the calves—huddled away from the imposing Miltank—and headed out.
With livestock growing, he pondered: Slaughtering here is risky. If Shane saw it, complications would arise. Even if unseen, processing alone would overwhelm him—and he couldn't task Pokémon with bloodshed.
Better to raise animals here, then ship them to Kalos for immediate factory processing. Hire workers there.
But transporting live cattle was tedious. If only he could invent something like the farm's teleporter…
He'd need answers first:
- How long do cows take to mature in Kalos?
- If it's also five days, theft could erase his advantage.
- If longer, his five-day edge remains—even if Kalos breeders kept stock.
Either way, he'd need land in Kalos for a processing plant.
Ron processed mature chickens, packed eggs and veggies, and shipped everything to Kalos—earning 30,000G. He resolved to visit Kalos soon.
---
Meanwhile, in the Mines…
After battling a Rattata pack with Gengar, Abigail returned from the Pokémon Center.
Passing a protruding rock, she heard faint noises.
"Is something back there?" She tapped the stone—useless for detecting hidden chambers.
"If only I had a bomb…" She eyed Gengar sipping milk.
Suddenly, a paper slid from the rock.
Startled, Abigail picked it up—it was a bomb recipe.
As she frowned, mine cart tracks clanked.
Ron arrived. "What's wrong?"
"There's something behind this rock," Abigail said, handing him the paper. "It gave me this."
Ron recognized the recipe. Dwarves.
Mine NPCs sold useful items—like bombs.
"I'll handle it. Go mine," he said.
Abigail took the elevator down with Gengar.
Ron crafted a bomb from nearby materials and placed it against the rock.
BOOM!
The boulder shattered, revealing a cavern.
A small figure emerged—helmeted, with glowing red eyes fixed on Ron.
It spoke haltingly: "Where's the Shadow Clan?"
"Shadow Clan?" Ron realized it mistook Gengar for a "Shadow Clan" member—both dark and shadow-dwelling.
Too complicated to explain. "Went back into the mines," he said.
The dwarf sniffed the air. "Another thing… smells sweet. Milk? Can you get me some?"
Its broken Common Tongue was barely intelligible.
Ron fetched a bottle of Moomoo Milk.
The dwarf sipped cautiously—then cheered, clutching the bottle.
"This is the taste of my dreams!"
Ron deciphered the odd phrasing.
The dwarf handed him a book: "Dwarven Language Guide. Learn it, bring this to our clan—you'll be welcomed!"
Ron took the guide—and suddenly understood: his mountain of surplus milk had just found its biggest buyer.
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