The mysterious Monster, whose body had completely "dissolved" from within, left Ms. Meow-It-All and the other scholars with countless unanswered questions.
Ms. Meow-It-All even considered sending an urgent message to summon the "Soaratorium aerial research lab" for a thorough investigation of the crab-like Monster.
Unfortunately, that was impractical. They were an expedition team, not a scientific research team. Although surveying local wildlife and ecology was one of the expedition's main objectives, establishing an outpost remained the immediate priority.
Only after the outpost was built could the various investigations proceed in an orderly fashion.
That night, after completing a full disinfection, the Village Chief called a meeting. Though the scalding limewater had left him flushed bright red, he looked positively delighted.
He gathered the leaders and key members of every group, and all the Hunters attended as well.
Inside the dining hall, which served as a temporary meeting room, the Village Chief pulled out a blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk, and began sketching so rapidly that it hissed across the board.
He had an excellent memory and a remarkable talent for cartography. Before long, a topographical map of the open riverside area and its surroundings covered the blackboard.
"This will be our new home!" The Village Chief's eyes shone. "To make the work more efficient, we'll survey the area and gather building materials at the same time.
"Before anything else, we must build a small camp beside the river where we can store and stockpile construction supplies.
"This is vital. Until the outpost walls are standing, the camp will keep the construction workers safe and prevent nearby Monsters from causing trouble or destroying our materials and tools.
"Next..."
As the Village Chief continued his lengthy explanation, Hubert, who led the smithing team, suddenly raised one thick, stubby arm. "I've got a question."
He spread his hands. "Village Chief, whether we're talking about the camp or the outpost walls, both will require an enormous amount of timber.
"I remember you saying there aren't any large trees on this side of the river, right? We'll have to cut timber in the Mangrove Forest on the opposite bank, so how are we supposed to get it across?
"We aren't going to have to build a bridge first, are we? That won't be easy."
"Good question!" The Village Chief looked as though he had been expecting it. "The usual way to transport timber across a river is to fell it upstream, float it down with the current, and intercept it from the bank.
"But I have an even better idea. We'll need to gather plenty of materials from the Mangrove Forest anyway, so a bridge connecting the two banks will be essential!"
"Then we still have to build a bridge..." Hubert muttered.
The Village Chief chuckled and tapped the blackboard. "Look here. The river narrows at this point, doesn't it?
"I checked earlier. The river branches into several tributaries here, and the water is shallow. If our ship tries to pass through this channel, it's almost certain to run aground."
"So?"
The Village Chief did not answer Hubert right away. Instead, he turned to Francesca.
"Miss Stirling, our ship counts as expedition property, doesn't it?"
Francesca blinked at the abrupt question, but nodded all the same. "Of course."
"Then let's say our ship accidentally runs aground as it enters the river mouth. With no other choice, we turn it broadside, anchor and chain it in place, and use it as a temporary pontoon bridge.
"And since it would be a shame to leave all the tables and chairs aboard unused, we'd bring them down and continue using them. Would that work?"
Francesca stared at him in utter bafflement.
—--
More than a month had passed since the expedition's ship had "accidentally" run aground while entering the river mouth and been converted into a pontoon bridge.
Construction was in full swing.
On the eastern bank, at the end of the pontoon bridge nearest the Mangrove Forest, the smiths had built a logging camp around the bridgehead.
As the outpost's bridgehead, the camp was protected by wooden walls and rows of sharpened Kelbi Horn stakes. The Village Chief had even removed two Heavy Ballistas from the ship and mounted them there to defend against threats emerging from the Mangrove Forest.
If a Monster attacked the outpost, the camp would serve as a buffer and buy them time to disconnect the pontoon bridge.
With the logging camp established, vast quantities of timber felled in the Mangrove Forest crossed the pontoon bridge every day for use in the outpost's construction.
The large ship, grounded and secured in the middle of the river, continued to serve as both a support for the pontoon bridge and temporary quarters for the expedition team.
This spared them from devoting too much effort to living quarters during the outpost's initial construction and allowed them to focus on vital facilities such as the perimeter wall and smithy.
Thanks to that arrangement, in just over a month the outpost had gained walls and basic defensive fortifications, and construction was firmly on track.
To name the outpost, the Village Chief invited public submissions and held a vote. Anonymous slips soon produced every sort of suggestion.
The more conventional suggestions included "Trade Wind Village," "Mangrove Outpost," and "Riverside Outpost."
Some were obvious imitations, such as "Tide Wave Village" and "Sun and Moon Outpost."
Others were blatant jokes, such as "Meow Meow Village" and "Francesca-Is-Forty-Centimeters-Shorter-Than-Isis Outpost."
When the Village Chief read that last suggestion aloud with a smile, Francesca sprang from her seat and chased down her Felyne partner.
What alarmed Francesca most was that the ridiculous name had received eleven votes. The entire expedition numbered only a little over eighty people, and most proposals had attracted support in the single digits.
Had the vote not been anonymous, she would have tracked down all eleven voters to find out who had dared support it.
Thankfully, most members of the expedition were still sensible.
Because the outpost stood directly opposite the Mangrove Forest, "Mangrove Outpost" was both memorable and immediately descriptive. It ultimately received the most votes, becoming the official name of the expedition team's first camp on Tidal Island.
—--
The newly completed perimeter wall marked the edge of Mangrove Outpost.
Several thick tree stumps stood nearby, their bark and branch stubs still intact.
They were offcuts from the timber used to build the wall.
The pieces with straight grain and pleasing shapes had been claimed by the smiths for furniture. The porous, brittle, and crumbling ones had been gathered for fuel.
The Hunters had dragged over the remaining logs, made from hard wood but too twisted, knotted, and scarred for practical use, to serve as training dummies. Nothing went to waste.
In front of one stump, Altaïr held his Long Sword in a middle guard, its tip aimed directly at the training dummy. His muscles were slightly tensed, his entire body as still as a statue, and the blade did not waver in the slightest.
Isis crouched on a nearby stump, her chin propped in one palm, staring blankly.
She had been walking past when she saw Altaïr poised to thrust, yet he made no further move. Curious, she could not help stopping to see what he was doing.
After all, she had once been a Long Sword user herself.
And so she remained crouched there for more than a quarter of an hour. Her legs had gone numb, but Altaïr had yet to move an inch.
She wanted to ask what he was doing, but his eyes were nearly closed and he seemed deep in meditation. She was afraid of disturbing him.
Clawdia, who had followed her, kept fidgeting with her whiskers. She had long since lost patience.
She had no objection to Isis zoning out. She would happily spend the whole day idling beside her. But watching Isis stare blankly at a motionless Altaïr was another matter entirely.
Yet she did not dare jump out and distract Altaïr either, because Isis would scold her.
While Clawdia wrestled with her dilemma, Sajji, sitting cross-legged nearby as he tinkered with a green cylinder, looked up and shot her a sidelong glance. "If you don't want to be here, you can just leave, meow?"
"No, meow!" Clawdia wrapped herself around Isis's arm without taking her eyes off Altaïr. "Let's see who moves first, meow. Whoever moves loses, meow!"
Altaïr, nearly at his limit, finally lowered his Long Sword with a helpless expression. "It's just a static hold. What's there to watch?"
Isis's face fell. "After watching you hold that stance for so long, I thought you were about to unleash some incredible strike."
"It's not that simple, but I think I've found a lead." Altaïr stretched his aching, stiff limbs, a note of excitement in his voice.
Isis's eyes widened slightly. "You mean..."
"Yes. Your mother's secret scroll. I finally know where to begin.
"Will and sword intent. When they achieve perfect resonance and synchronization, the scroll calls it the 'ultimate' state..."
He was about to share the insights he had gained over the past few days when a red SOS flare suddenly streaked into the sky from the Mangrove Forest across the Great River.
It was an emergency distress signal.
Altaïr and Isis exchanged a glance. Everything else forgotten, they grabbed their weapons and sprinted at full speed toward the pontoon bridge connecting the two banks.
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5 bonus chapters if the story reaches 300ps before tomorrow's reset. Thank you for your support