Note: this story has survivalist themes, including hunting. I remember reading a fic that had some Pokemon being naturally more intelligent and ready for battle while the rest were essentially dumb animals, and that's roughly what I'm using here. Title is from Song of the Vermonters.
Edmund had long since become aware that he was working a dead-end job. There wasn't much potential for advancement when it came to laying down brick and mortar, definitely wasn't something he wanted to do until he was old and grey.
On the way home, he bought a handful of berries and tossed one to his Timburr, who caught it and dug in, humming his appreciation. It certainly felt like his Pokemon was in a similar place: he didn't get much battling out here, but his potential for evolution…? Eviolite worked, but no one had managed to get a Timburr to evolve as of yet, so?
"What do you think of something new?" He asked the Timburr.
He was met with an impassioned nod as they weaved around a Delibird carrying bottles of milk. Avoid the crowd of people gathering around a Vanilluxe to beat the heat, and squeeze inside the door to the towering building where he lived. (Packed in like Wishiwashi, but a roof over his head was a roof over his head.)
The city was nice enough, he supposed, and there'd always be work for a Timburr, but it wasn't exactly what he wanted from his life. There was an entire world outside of the tight quarters and unpleasant stench, although he had seen very little of it.
That was the thought that lingered in his mind the next day, the thought that dragged him down as he walked the streets. However, it was also the thought that made him pay attention to some sort of huckster loudly promising all the land you could ever want in the countryside. Despite his hesitance, he crept closer.
As the man continued to explain himself, Edmund realized the entire idea was damned foolish. It just happened to be a sort of foolishness that he was finding strangely inviting.
Signing up to make a new city was not the greatest idea. Hardship could strike as swiftly as whatever wild Pokemon took umbrage with you and would hit with all the force of a natural disaster. If you wanted an easy living, literally anywhere else would work, yet here Edmund was, discussing specifics with the magnate who was in charge of the whole venture.
He could smell the grift from a while away: of course, the magnate just wanted to help, up to providing generous loans for settlers for his little project! How wonderful! Edmund had no interest in shackling himself with debt, but wasn't he living in another sort of shackle now? He itched for something more, and if that required compromises…
Leaving the city for the first time was marvelous, even if he knew his reaction made him look terribly sheltered, but there was something overwhelming about all the green, the broad fields and flowers just blooming after the winter's chill. Hopefully, they'd get themselves prepped before next winter.
A whole retinue of water-type Pokemon helped pull the boats upstream, from mighty Lapras pulling to smaller Buizel and Floatzel driving any insistent wildlife away. Edmund had initially thought it unfortunate- hoping he might get a bite of Basculin or Magikarp- but after one got through and slammed into the boat with enough force to get stuck in the hull, he quickly changed his tune.
While on the way up, Edmund tried to get some sense of who he was sharing the boat with, the people who might become his new neighbors. A few were like him, some variation of urban poor with a potentially useful skill, but the lion's share of folks were different.
"You farmed?"
"Used to, yes, but I knew the land would never be mine, so…"
So he went for a long shot. Fair enough.
"How in debt are you going to be if this goes belly up?"
"I don't wish to think on it, or sickness will strike me before we even land."
They both laughed grimly before Edmund started to interrogate the man- named Francis- about proper farming practice. It was a romantic prospect, wasn't it? His own little plot of land.
His own little plot of land would require horrific amounts of brutal labor, even with a team of Pokemon helping, but it was possible. He supposed that this whole adventure would probably be a good chance to get a team started. They'd need all the help they could get.
Looking over the sides of the boat, he tried to find proper specimens. You could tell if a Pokemon was of the caliber to be trained, usually. Some were small fry, basically only good for eating, but some were fiercely intelligent, at least as far as fish or whatever came.
Unfortunately, the ones that ended up near the boat- and the Floatzel- tended to be on the foolish end of that particular spectrum. The Pokemon guarding the boat gorged themselves on roe and the choicest pieces… He'd almost feel sorry for the Basculin if they weren't such mean little bastards.
The wild Pokemon still shocked him, sometimes. Seismotoad lifted massive rocks on the riverbank, moving tons of stone in search of prey underneath. Lilligant basked in the sun, hoping to flower, while thick clouds of spores kept any potential predators away. Sawk and Throh trained on quiet hillsides, sundering boulders with ease… but perhaps the greatest sight he had seen came a few days further along in their journey when even the vaguest hints of civilization had vanished.
At first, he had just thought it particularly bad weather, but no. It was a flock of Pidove so terribly thick that the entire boat was cloaked in shadow, stretching across the sky like some unfathomable cloud. A few of the others onboard ordered their Pokemon to attack and aiming really wasn't required. You simply could not miss.
It was a nice supplement to their food supplies, and it seemed promising. Any land that could produce Pokemon in such jaw-dropping excess was certainly fruitful enough for settlement.
They settled near the riverbank, peering out into wild, unkempt forest. It was silly to think it was untouched when powerful Pokemon roamed through it, but it had a terrible sort of power. It had suffered Pokemon powerful enough to split rocks in twain and flood acres of land; how much could a few human settlers do to it?
Well, it turned out that quite a lot could be done, with hard work and Pokemon directed just the right way. A wild Pokemon didn't clear cut, didn't set aside areas for farming and housing and all the rest. Some of Edmund's earliest work was hauling lumber and binding fascines together with Timburr.
A Pawniard would usually do the felling- although Timburr could just hammer one down if he got worked up enough- and they would haul it back to… what would eventually, hopefully, become a town. The first structures were fairly humble, just log cabins held together by joints and dowels, but compared to the city? It was incredible, how much space there was.
Despite their distance, they still lived in the shadow of civilization: their voracious appetite for wood for their own projects was complemented by them sending whatever they could downstream to make the venture profitable. There wasn't even a need for special boats, not when great rafts could be made of logs, transport and product all in one. You'd lose a few, courtesy of the Basculin, but that was the price to be paid.
Tragically- or perhaps fortunately- this meant that he was spared farming, to start with. There was always lumber to handle. Occasionally, he would get to see a bit of what farming was like as he passed by the fields-to-be. For now, they were in the process of being plowed, so that berry and grain seeds could be scattered.
While the simplest way to do it was a rock or ground type, you could still take the traditional route with a plow. Bouffalant were more popular in this neck of the woods, a bit slower and less likely to run away than a provoked Tauros. Well, it would still run, but it wouldn't run as fast. Just… don't get in front of it if you liked breathing.
That was the rub. Sure, he loved his Timburr, but he didn't think it was really possible to live in this world without a bit of fear regarding Pokemon; anyone with a sound mind could see a Pokemon cause an earthquake or breath a spout and flame and extrapolate the results of those attacks on people. A tamed Pokemon wouldn't do that- weaponizing Pokemon was taboo for exceptionally good reason- but in nature, where Pokemon were beholden to no rules beyond those that guided them to fight and struggle for survival?
Coming to settle the city together was one way to fight that. More people, more Pokemon, more firepower to keep predators from wiping out the village. No one was foolish enough to complain about the way training bit into labor time, not when they'd never be able to work at all if they couldn't face attackers as a cohesive unit.
Admittedly, there had been some material gain from it, like the time a colony of Durant had roamed in from the foothills. They were vicious creatures, tough enough to weather most attacks but with jaws strong enough to splinter the logs of their palisades... but after Timburr had literally crushed some heads, they had gained no small amount of metal for their tools. Durant-plate axes and plows were useful, if a touch morbid.
Unfortunately, it was his understanding that attacks would only grow more vicious when their berry crop came into full bloom... They had no livestock in the fields to attract carnivores, but even the herbivores and omnivores were dreadful enough to make him worry. More Durant- and perhaps the Heatmor that fed on them- or Scolipede, perhaps even Seismotoad, dreadful earthshakers...
And then, of course, there were the threats that inspired long, lingering horror instead of brief bursts of fear. He had actually seen the faint purple ghost light of Litwick or one of its relatives, dancing behind the dark leaves. It was more concrete than the old wive's tales of Zorua and Zoroark, changelings and doppelgangers and that sort.