Renting the Sandship went incredibly smoothly. The owner did not even bother asking their names. Once they paid a deposit, he readily handed over the rather shabby little Sandship.
Judging by his expression, he might have been even happier if they missed the deadline and never returned it, leaving him free to pocket the deposit.
Altaïr was just as pleased with the little Sandship.
It was not because the price was relatively low. More importantly, this battered "heap of junk" perfectly suited their current cover as "sand-sea Nomads."
He had inspected it carefully as well. All the crucial parts, including the hull, rudder, sails, and cables, were in good condition. It looked shabby, but that would not affect its performance in the slightest.
He planned to use this Sandship to lead the "Demon King" on a chase later, so he could not afford to be careless.
—--
While Altaïr rented the ship, Lania went off for a while.
She found the residence of Sun Worship Town's Elder and, after identifying herself as a Guild Knight, asked about the red Diablos and the Hunter named Sid.
This was standard procedure for officials: find whoever was in charge locally, show your credentials, and that was it. Simple and effective.
—--
When the two met outside town, Altaïr had already adjusted the Sandship's sails and finished preparing to depart.
"Did you learn anything?" he asked as he tied down a cable.
When he had seen Lania head off alone, he had already guessed what she was doing.
"A little," Lania answered without holding anything back. "The Elder said he knew about that red Diablos. It didn't appear recently; it's lived deep in the sand sea for years.
"According to him, its territory doesn't seem fixed. It's occasionally spotted here in western Sekumea. Since it has never attacked towns or caravans, they never reported it to the higher authorities.
"The locals and the Nomads who have seen it call it 'Diablon.'"
"'Diablos' and 'Diablon,' 'demon' and 'Demon King,' huh?" Altaïr grinned. "That happens to be the same name Mr. Alva came up with. Too bad it doesn't keep to a fixed territory. We'll have to take our time searching.
"What about Sid? Did the Elder know anything about him?"
"He didn't recognize the name 'Sid,' but he said a fairly skilled Hunter has been roaming these parts for the past few months.
"He's helped their town deal with a pack of Cephalos and sometimes helps nearby nomadic tribes handle Monsters.
"He calls himself a 'samurai' and wears azure-blue armor, so some people call him the 'Azure Samurai,' borrowing a nickname from a manga."
"So he sounds like a decent man?"
"Maybe. According to the Guild's registration records, Sid wears the Rathalos Soul U Armor Set and wields the Black Katana Mk.III. That matches the azure-blue armor the Elder described. Since he comes from Shiki, calling himself a 'samurai' is perfectly natural. It's almost certainly him."
"Both the Rathalos Soul U Armor Set and the Black Katana Mk.III sit right at the threshold of High Rank. He must be pretty strong, yet he still couldn't do anything about the Demon King..." Altaïr muttered with a frown.
Lania's usually placid expression turned serious as well. "Once someone that capable crosses the line, the harm he can do is enormous. We have to find him as quickly as possible."
The grimy canvas sails bellied out in the wind, carrying the little Sandship swiftly across the sand sea.
With a favorable wind, a small Sandship could even outpace an Airship.
—--
Several hours later, as the sun set and the sky began to darken, the two finally arrived at a fairly large oasis.
Even from a distance, they could see the glow of campfires and smoke rising into the sky.
"Looks like we found the right place." Altaïr adjusted the sails to slow down, smiling as he spoke. "Even a large nomadic tribe wouldn't light this many campfires at once. It would waste too much fuel.
"You only see this when a group of people with different agendas, none of whom trust each other, gather in one place."
"How do you know so much about this?" Lania finally gave in and asked the question that had been on her mind for a long time.
Knowing he couldn't fob her off with a line about having learned it from the Loc Lac Rangers, Altaïr decided to tell her the truth.
"You were born in the Great Desert, Lady Lania, but you grew up in a town, right?" Altaïr replied with a question of his own.
Without waiting for Lania to answer, he continued, "Places like this may seem mysterious to outsiders, but to us Nomads, they're simply part of everyday life.
"Although I moved into town when I was eight or nine, I often visited places like this as a child.
"I didn't learn the term 'black market' until I was older. When I was a kid, what even was a 'black market'? A marketplace was just a marketplace.
"Trinkets found in the ruins could be traded for plenty of food. Making counterfeits or artificially aging handicrafts was no different from herding livestock. They were all simply ways to survive."
Altaïr's tone was relaxed. He did not consider that a difficult period in his life. On the contrary, he felt he had enjoyed a rather happy childhood.
The Sandship gradually came to a smooth stop at the edge of the oasis.
While securing the hull with mooring lines, Altaïr quietly warned Lania, "You'll find every kind of person here. Some tactless fool may try to test us. Don't act weak, but don't overreact either."
Lania hung her curved blades in a conspicuous place, looked him up and down a few times, and said, "I may not be a nomad, but I've visited just as many rough places as you have. I know how to handle myself.
"As for you, remember to look vicious once we are inside."
Altaïr grinned at that.
She had a point. This woman was nothing like the clueless tourists he had guided before. Instead of worrying about her, he might want to worry about the people in that marketplace.
The "bloodbath at the black market" Mr. Alva had joked about might not be so hard for this former Guild Night operative to pull off after all...
Their arrival drew many watchful eyes.
The vast majority merely glanced at them, then immediately looked away.
With two curved blades at her waist and a cold, forbidding gaze, Lania looked like someone no one should provoke. At over 190 centimeters tall, Altaïr might not have stood out among Hunters, but here he was an intimidating giant of a man.
Altaïr suddenly realized he had been an idiot. Lania was right.
What were they doing pretending to be Nomads and wandering travelers? Nomads struggled just to fill their bellies. How could a Nomad ever have a build like his?
Anyone with eyes could see that he was a warrior.
The Nomad he had met earlier at the livestock pen in Sun Worship Town had probably noticed too, but had chosen not to call him out. Better to avoid unnecessary trouble.
When it came down to it, posing as a sand pirate did not suit him either. A man built like him would be taken for a soldier, guard, or Hunter.
Whatever the role, carrying a short blade that was not even as long as a Carving Knife looked out of place.
No wonder Lania had just reminded him to "look vicious."
Now that he understood, Altaïr lifted his chin a little higher. He swept his gaze from side to side and quickly settled on several men gathered around a campfire nearby.
Their beards and hair were a tangled mess. They wore tattered leather armor, and several bloodstained weapons lay beside the campfire. Everyone else in the oasis kept well away from them and barely dared to glance in their direction.
No introductions were needed. They were genuine sand pirates.
Altaïr gave a hearty "Heh!" then rolled his neck and strode toward them.
Faced with such blatant hostility, the men stirred uneasily. Two of them rose, cursing and brandishing their weapons as they moved to meet him.
That was the end of it.
Although Altaïr had never specifically trained to fight people, a High Rank Hunter's physical abilities and reaction speed were far beyond anything these bandits could match.
He casually caught each man by the wrist of his weapon hand and knocked them both cold with one punch apiece.
The others were badly shaken. They scrambled to their feet, caught between fighting and fleeing. Altaïr spat on the ground and drove them back with a few Nomad curses too foul to repeat.
Then, without a hint of hesitation, he swaggered up to their campfire, rummaged around, selected an axe probably meant for chopping wood, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and turned to leave.
The sand pirates did not dare object. Dragging their two unconscious companions, they withdrew to make camp farther away.
They naturally assumed Altaïr's weapon had broken or been lost and that he had simply helped himself to a replacement from others in the same trade...
Lania stared wordlessly for a moment at Altaïr, who had returned with the axe on his shoulder and now stood behind her looking insufferably arrogant.
She dearly wanted to know what expressions Altaïr's companions would make if they could see him now.
* * *
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