Southern Paldea. Cabo Poco.
It was early spring, and a gentle breeze was drifting in off the South Paldean Sea, rolling through the quiet little town that sat along the shore.
Around noon, a Corviknight descended from the sky at the entrance to Cabo Poco. Carl swung down from its back, having made the flight all the way from Levincia. He packed away his riding gear, returned Corviknight to his Poké Ball, and headed into town with Flutter Mane in his arms.
In the games, Cabo Poco had been a place with barely a handful of residents outside the player character and Nemona. But this was the real world, and while the town was small, Carl estimated the actual population at somewhere around two thousand. That was just how it went with starter towns in the games -- the numbers never told the whole story.
It didn't take long after stepping inside the town limits for Carl to start drawing attention. Three years of travel had taken him through enough new places that curious looks didn't faze him anymore -- he'd built up a full immunity to being stared at. Still, being a well-dressed outsider in a town this quiet made him stand out in a way he couldn't really avoid.
With some help from a friendly passerby, Carl found the mayor's house without much trouble. He knocked, and the door swung open to reveal a white-haired old man.
The man was dressed in a faded henley and a pair of work overalls spotted with dried mud. But the shirt was straining against arms and shoulders that told a different story -- he might have been well past fifty, but his build was striking. The kind you only got from decades of hard physical work.
Carl, who trained with his Pokémon outdoors on a regular basis, took one look at the man's muscle mass and felt a quiet twinge of respect.
The old man blinked at Carl for a moment, then collected himself with a warm smile. "Hello there. I'm Poco, the mayor of Cabo Poco. What can I do for you?"
Carl had already received the deed to the farm from his grandfather's letter, but officially inheriting it still required registration with the Paldea League. That was what had brought him here.
After Carl explained his reason for visiting, the two of them went inside. Over the course of their conversation, Carl learned that Mayor Poco had been helped by his grandfather when he was young -- and that Poco had actually been the one who'd helped his grandfather get in touch with Professor Rowan all the way over in Sinnoh.
"Hard to believe how fast the years went." Poco studied Carl up and down with a look of quiet reflection. "Your father didn't want the farm. He wanted to be an explorer. He and your grandfather had one hell of a fight over it -- neither of them would budge, and in the end your father just up and left Paldea without another word.
"Now, Byrd -- your grandfather -- he wasn't dead set on your father taking over the farm. But those two had exactly the same stubbornness. Neither one could bring himself to be the first to back down, and that's what set everything else in motion." He paused. "But that's old history. No use dwelling on it."
Poco shifted, his tone warming. "You just touched down, right? Haven't been to the farm yet, I'm guessing? I've got some free time right now -- let me take you out there."
"I don't want to put you out," Carl said, a little hesitant. Mayor or not, the man must have had a full plate.
Poco waved him off and stood up, clapping Carl on the shoulder with one broad hand. "You're being too formal, young Carl. I finished catching up on the backlog just yesterday. Today I've got nothing on."
He grabbed Carl by the arm, pulled him off the sofa, and led him outside, where an old pickup truck sat in the drive looking like it had seen better decades. They climbed in and headed west out of town.
On the way, Carl asked Poco everything he could think of about running a farm. Poco answered every question without hesitation. The man clearly knew his stuff -- he could rattle off what each farm in the area specialized in, walk through the planting schedules season by season, and explain the actual how-to of sowing crops with the kind of ease that only came from experience.
Carl listened carefully and quietly filed away every detail. This was practical knowledge, and he wasn't going to waste it.
As someone who'd been actively preparing for farm life ever since he decided to accept his grandfather's inheritance, Carl had already done his reading. He knew that when it came down to it, running a farm long-term meant solving just two problems: what to sell, and who to sell it to.
Coming in for the landing earlier, he'd spotted four other farms near Cabo Poco. The local market was almost certainly saturated. That meant his first real challenge, before the first harvest, was finding a reliable distribution channel.
He raised the question with Poco directly, without any embarrassment. Sitting on good connections and refusing to use them wasn't clever -- it was just pride getting in the way.
Poco laughed. "Now that's exactly the right question to ask me." He tapped the steering wheel with one finger, relaxed. "Before you showed up, there were already three farms on the edge of town. Cabo Poco can only absorb a fraction of what they produce.
"The rest gets picked up by the agricultural cooperative. As long as the quality's up to their standards, the buyer gives you a fair price. They're consistent about it."
He recited a phone number and told Carl to save it. "Once you have something to sell, give that number a ring. That's the cooperative's local buyer for Cabo Poco. Tell them I sent you. Around here, the mayor's name still carries a little weight."
"Thank you, Mayor Poco," Carl said, and he meant it.
"Fu!" Flutter Mane added from Carl's arms.
Under normal circumstances, passing along a contact number was already more than enough. The fact that Poco was also vouching for Carl personally was a significant favor on top of that.
"Don't mention it." Poco's voice took on a more distant quality, like he was reaching back for something. "I made a lot of mistakes when I was young. If Byrd hadn't pulled me out of one of them, there might not be a Mayor Poco in Cabo Poco today. All I ask is that you take good care of that farm. If you do, then I'll consider my debt to the old man paid."
Carl was about to say something more, but the truck lurched to a stop. He looked up.
In front of them stood a three-story building constructed from red brick and natural timber, sitting on a footprint of roughly three hundred square meters.
"Here we are." Poco swung the door open and climbed out. Carl followed, and they walked up to the porch together. Poco reached into a flower bed beside the front door, dug around through the soil, and produced a brass key, which he held out to Carl with a grin. "You should be the one to open it."
Carl took the key. With Poco watching, he stepped up to the door, slid it in, and turned the lock.