Summer 12
After last night's late Luau, even Indeedee slept in.
Ron slipped out of bed, glanced at the Rattata pile, adjusted Froakie on his pillow, made breakfast, and left the cabin.
Hops regrew daily after the first harvest. Ron munched on some bread as he worked the trellises.
An hour later, Rattata trickled out of the cabin, carrying armfuls of Hops to the brewery.
Pale Ale took 36 hours to brew. Since Ron had processed yesterday's harvest immediately, this batch would be ready by noon.
At the brewery entrance, a glass bottle machine now stood—Rattata fed it refined quartz, waiting for bottles to pop out.
Nearby, a capper sealed filled bottles with rubber stoppers before shipping.
The brewery held ~60 Kegs. Ron estimated each yielded ~3 bottles—decent output.
Rattata stacked fresh bottles, watching the clock. At noon, they'd rush to fill and ship them.
This income—~50,000G from Pale Ale sales (300G/bottle)—was critical. Beyond the planned barn, Ron would expand the first coop to boost egg/chicken production.
In Pelican Town, crops outearned livestock—so all animal products were Kalos-exclusive.
Bus repairs were delayed until late Summer/Autumn—Hops required daily labor. Alternatively, once Abigail finished the mine, she could replace Pam's harvesting duties with Gengar, freeing up funds.
Fixing the bus would unlock the Community Center's Craft Room. Ron sensed its contents mattered—best unlocked ASAP.
Pam arrived just then, plucking Hops into her basket. "Morning."
"Morning," Ron replied, working steadily. They finished the field by noon.
The midsummer heat left them drenched. Pam collapsed under a tree, accepting a drink from Indeedee. Her eyes tracked Rattata ferrying bottles to the shipping bin.
Swallow.
Indeedee tilted its head. It knew Pam craved beer—but another voice in her mind drowned the urge.
"Indeedee?"
Pam sighed, leaning against the trunk.
"I heard you can read minds," she said, smiling. "No thanks—I won't drink." She downed her drink, crunching ice loudly.
Ron returned from his rounds, took a drink from Indeedee, and Froakie hopped onto his shoulder.
"Hot day. Want a Pale Ale? My treat."
Pam waved him off. "I quit. One sip, and I'm back in that cycle." Sobriety had shown her life beyond alcohol's haze.
Ron fetched two cups, filled them with ice, tapped two Kegs, and headed to the makeshift pasture.
Shane was tending Miltank. "Beer?" Ron offered.
Shane accepted gratefully, leaning on the fence.
His transformation stunned Ron. Likely thanks to the Miltank—gentler and more intelligent than Pelican Town's livestock, perfect for someone with Shane's social hesitations.
Sipping slowly, Shane hesitated, then handed Ron a letter.
"What's this?"
"The ranch… sells a machine," Shane mumbled.
An Auto-Grabber—25,000G—that collected eggs, milk, and even sheared sheep.
But since Shane earned 500G/day doing those tasks, requesting it felt wrong. Why buy an expensive machine to ease his own workload?
Marnie had drafted the letter but gave it to Shane, letting him decide.
Ron scanned it. "Does it work on Miltank?"
Shane blinked. "It should. If you're unsure, I'll test it with one at Marnie's tomorrow."
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