Chapter 261: The Knights of Ancient Galar

Summer glanced at the fainted Corviknight, then shifted his gaze to the dark-haired boy before him. The boy, dressed in coarse linen clothing, had an air of maturity beyond his years. His thick eyebrows framed a pair of determined eyes, though at the moment, they held a mix of awe and apprehension.

Before unraveling his own questions, Summer decided to clarify the boy's identity first. "What's your name?"

The boy straightened up slightly, his tone filled with respect. "Sir Knight, my name is Hilder of Postwick. I live near this forest."

Summer noted the formality in his voice but focused on the real question. "Why do you think I'm a knight?"

Hilder looked confused. "Because… you command Pokémon, and your clothes look unusual. You must be a knight, right?"

Summer raised an eyebrow. "Your Sirfetch'd is also a Pokémon. By your logic, wouldn't that make you a knight as well?"

At this, Hilder suddenly stiffened. His expression turned to panic as he hurriedly pleaded, "Sir Knight, please—please don't take Sirfetch'd away! Your Pokémon are already so strong, you don't need him! I beg you, he's my most important companion!"

Summer was caught off guard by the sheer desperation in the boy's voice. "I can assure you, I have no intention of taking your Pokémon."

The relief in Hilder's face was immediate, but Summer found himself more perplexed than before. This reaction… did knights in this era regularly seize other people's Pokémon? Sighing, he decided to be direct. "Actually, I'm not a knight at all. That's why I was so curious about what you meant."

"…Not a knight?" Hilder's eyes widened in disbelief. "Then… what are you?"

"Just someone who lives alongside Pokémon," Summer answered simply. "You don't have to be a knight to do that."

Hilder stared at him for a moment before breaking into an amused chuckle. "Oh! That makes sense! No knight would ever say they treat Pokémon as partners. They only see them as tools for battle."

Summer's expression darkened slightly. "And what exactly are knights, then?"

Hilder's face turned serious. "Anyone who can tame Pokémon is considered a knight. It's supposed to be a title of honor… but it mostly belongs to nobles. They have wealth, resources, and influence. They can easily acquire Pokémon eggs and raise them from birth, and if they don't have one, they just take a fully trained one for themselves."

"Take?" Summer narrowed his eyes. "So that's why you were afraid just now?"

Hilder clenched his fists. "Yeah… Even if we commoners somehow manage to form a bond with a Pokémon, the moment we train them too well, nobles see them as 'tame enough' and steal them. That's why my father and I left the village and settled near the mountains."

Summer remained silent, taking in the implications. So in this time period, Pokémon weren't just companions—they were symbols of power. The people of Galar had always been battle-hardened, but unlike other regions that coexisted with Pokémon, it seemed Galar's past was built on conquest.

After a moment, he asked, "Do you think all knights are bad people?"

"Of course not!" Hilder shook his head. "There are good ones, too! I thought you were one at first. But even they don't really see Pokémon as equals."

Summer exhaled slowly. Galar's past was more brutal than he had imagined. It was no wonder the people here in the present day still had such a strong battle-driven culture—it was literally ingrained into their history.

Shifting gears, he turned to a more immediate concern. "Now, what about this Corviknight? Why was it attacking you?"

Hilder scratched his head, looking puzzled. "I have no idea! I wasn't bothering it or anything…"

Summer glanced at the ground and picked up one of the scattered pieces of black metal. He held it up. "What's this?"

Hilder's eyes lit up. "Oh! That's some metal I found in the forest. My father is a blacksmith—adding this to molten iron makes weapons stronger!" He grinned. "Usually, these bits are scattered all over, but I found a whole pile this time!"

Summer's lips twitched. "…Did it ever occur to you that Corviknight might have been collecting them?"

A long silence followed. Then—

"…Oh no." Hilder paled. "I—I stole its hoard?! That means I'm a thief!!"

Summer sighed. "You didn't know. Just leave them here, and it should be fine. Also, your Pokémon needs medical attention."

"No, I have to wait for Corviknight to wake up. I need to apologize." Hilder turned to his Sirfetch'd. "Right?"

Sirfetch'd, however, huffed and turned its back to him.

"W-Wait, what did I do wrong?!" Hilder stammered.

Summer smirked. "You probably hurt its pride. Sirfetch'd are warriors—they wouldn't want to hear their partner belittle their strength."

Hilder looked guilty. "Oh… I did say something like that earlier. But come on, I wasn't lying—Summer's Pokémon are obviously stronger than you!"

WHACK.

A leek smacked Hilder across the head. Sirfetch'd let out an exasperated sigh. If you're going to insult me, at least sugarcoat it!

"Ow! What was that for?!" Hilder clutched his head, eyes watery from the impact. He clenched his fists, ready to challenge his own Pokémon to a duel.

Summer chuckled, watching their bickering. "Their bond is strong."

Beside him, Rillaboom rumbled in agreement. It had seen firsthand how fiercely these two had protected each other.

A few feet away, Corviknight stirred, its eyes flickering open. The moment it spotted Rillaboom, it immediately slammed its beak shut and pretended to faint again.

It had no idea how to deal with a monster that had knocked it out in a single punch.

Outside the Slumbering Weald…

A small stone house stood isolated from the nearby village, black smoke curling from its chimney. Piles of lumber and various ores lay stacked outside.

A young nobleman with golden hair stood before it, his hands behind his back. His polished armor gleamed in the sunlight, and a luxurious blue cape draped over his shoulders. Floating beside him was a sword—its hilt wrapped in silk-like ribbons, its blade bearing a ghostly face.

Beside him, an elderly man with a stern expression bowed slightly. A Bronzong hovered silently at his side.

The noble's lips curled in a haughty smirk. "So this is the home of Galar's greatest blacksmith?" His voice was dripping with condescension. "What a miserable place."

The old man remained still. "Indeed, Lord Sordward. But regardless of appearances, his skill is unmatched."

Sordward scoffed. "Hmph. It hardly matters. As long as he forges a blade worthy of my station, I'll overlook the filth. Let us hope he does not disappoint me."

With that, he stepped forward, his floating Aegislash following closely behind.

(To be continued…)