The Wyverian artisan led Isis to an open area and put the new weapon through a series of tests.
Beyond basic slashes, shelling, the Wyrmstake Cannon, and Wyvern's Fire, she tried every manner of "unorthodox" application, including Storm Rush with the muzzle brake locked, Dragon Breath with the cooling mechanism disabled, and more.
Isis's delighted cries of "Whoa!" never stopped echoing across the open ground.
Because of someone's lingering health problem, her spirits had been low for days. Only now did a smile that could truly be called happy return to her face.
After formally thanking the Wyverian artisan and saying goodbye, the two headed to the Guild Hall as planned to meet their companions.
—--
Francesca was highly efficient. By the time they arrived at the Guild Hall, she had already tracked down Morgan, Clawdia, and Sajji and gathered them there.
Morgan had returned to Val Habar two days earlier. According to him, he had stayed home the entire time and treated himself to a long vacation.
"Have you put on weight, meow?" Sajji tilted his head and studied him. "And of course, I don't mean that in an unhealthy way, meow.
"Actually, your face has filled out a little, softening your features and making you look even prettier, meow!"
"..." Morgan remained expressionless and resolved to increase his training regimen in the near future.
Altaïr helplessly tugged at Sajji's cheeks. The compliment had been well meant. Perhaps Sajji should try a different one next time.
Clawdia nestled in Isis's arms, nuzzling Isis's palm and belly without pause.
Compared with the sharp, almost cold hardness she had shown before, Altaïr thought she seemed slightly softer now. Or was he imagining it?
"I heard you were training under Mr. Purrcival's guidance. How did it go?" Altaïr asked as he idly toyed with Sajji's ear.
"Of course, meow!" Sajji instantly perked up. "Everyone says Mr. Purrcival is the finest Felyne around when it comes to both fighting and bombing, but even that doesn't do him justice, meow!
"When it comes to support, healing, and even cooking Canteen meals, Mr. Purrcival is still the best of the best, meow! He's a true all-around Felyne, meow!"
"Didn't you manage to learn a few of his tricks?" Altaïr asked with a smile.
Sajji let out an awkward "Uh, meow meow meow." Then he said, "Of course I learned a few things, meow. Mr. Purrcival helped me improve the formula for my alchemical explosive. The Rathalos Series and Rathian Series are both much more powerful now, meow. And I've come up with a few new ideas too, meow."
At that, he glanced at Clawdia in Isis's arms. "Mr. Purrcival also said we're both too specialized, meow. He said that to become top-tier Felynes, we need to work on our weaknesses. At the very least, they can't be crippling, meow."
"Weaknesses?"
"Mr. Purrcival told Clawdia to supervise my close-combat training. I'm supposed to push her to improve her support skills and tactical coordination, meow..."
Clawdia turned her head, reluctance filling her voice. "This guy is far too frail, meow. Even Father couldn't stand watching him anymore, meow.
"Before we left, Father also told me to listen to him. Seriously, I'm a combat Felyne. Why should I take orders from a support Felyne, meow?"
However reluctant she was, her father's orders were absolute, so she would grit her teeth and obey.
Besides, all Sajji had to say was, "Your father would be so disappointed in you, meow," and she fell right into line.
Altaïr's brow twitched. He suspected Purrcival's order for Clawdia to "listen to Sajji" was not solely about tactical command.
Francesca clearly shared his suspicion and clicked her tongue from the sidelines.
Pawdrick lay sprawled across the bench beside her, one paw propping up his head, the very picture of a carefree life.
Isis looked up from scratching Clawdia under the chin. "What about you, Francesca? How are things with Serl?"
Blindsided by the impossibly direct question, Francesca froze and stammered, "Wh-what do you mean, how are things?"
Isis merely blinked at her in silence.
A few seconds later, Francesca surrendered. "Fine, fine. It's what it looks like. We both have our own work to do, so this is how things will stay for now."
Her answer could hardly have been vaguer.
Still lounging on the bench, Pawdrick craned his head over the table and drawled, "Allow me to translate, meow. Careers first, long-distance relationship for now, and once they both have some free time, they'll start talking about marr--"
"Thwack!"
Francesca sprang up, seized the heavy wooden tankard from the table, wound up, and brought it down on Pawdrick's skull.
With a resounding bang, Pawdrick's eyes rolled back. He passed out on the spot and slid limply beneath the table.
Francesca gritted her teeth and raised the wooden tankard like a Hammer. She glared fiercely at everyone else around the table, her terrifying expression clearly warning them, "One more word and I'm taking you all down with me!"
The other three quickly ducked their heads and shut their mouths. Only Isis failed to hold back a snickering "hee hee."
"Thwack!"
As expected, the wooden tankard came down on her skull.
Isis rubbed her head and gave another silly "heh heh." Francesca had barely used any force. It did not hurt at all!
—--
The Royal Academy airship Knowledge Seeker had originally been scheduled to complete the "Demon King Investigation" and return within a month. Various complications kept it in the Great Desert for nearly two months before it finally returned to Dundorma's Grand Shipyard.
Francesca was grateful she had prepared two months' worth of supplies in advance. Otherwise, they would have almost run out of food and drinking water.
After the quest settlement and a series of other formalities were complete, the four members of the Vanguard Hunting Party were the first to leave.
They were still Hunters affiliated with the Metapetatto Guild. After nearly two months away, a certain former receptionist turned Guildmarm feared that several more Hunters had run off. She sent a letter every few days to ask after them, each sheet covered in what looked suspiciously like deliberately sprinkled tears.
Serl boldly invited Francesca to spend a few days in Metapetatto. The Jungle's spring scenery was at its finest, making it the perfect excuse for a vacation.
Francesca was tempted. However, the Knowledge Seeker's return from its first long voyage meant a terrifying amount of summary reports and other work for every department. As the supply officer, she obviously could not get away and could only promise, "Definitely next time."
Altaïr, Isis, and Morgan decided to stay in Dundorma for a while longer.
The main reason was the unresolved danger posed by the microorganisms inside Altaïr's body. He had to visit the Royal Academy for checkups every few days to ensure his condition did not worsen.
Morgan, meanwhile, planned to use this time to take on more difficult quests, such as one involving a Rathalos and Rathian together. As the center of the Old World, Dundorma offered plenty of quests to choose from.
Such quests carried a 5★ difficulty rating, but their actual difficulty was far higher than that of an ordinary 5★ quest. Most 5★ Hunters would not accept one alone and instead tackled such quests in teams.
Morgan, however, declined Altaïr and Isis's offer to hunt together. He was determined to go it alone.
He planned to follow Altaïr's example, using the pressure of real hunts to hone his techniques, forge what he had learned into a cohesive whole, and push toward a breakthrough in preparation for his eventual promotion to High Rank.
—--
Far outside Dundorma stood a heavily guarded structure built like a fortified castle.
It was no fortress, however. It was a prison.
With a visitation permit approved by the Guild, Altaïr passed through checkpoint after checkpoint. The guards searched him repeatedly to confirm he carried no weapons before allowing him inside for his visit.
He stopped before one of the cells.
A disheveled man sat upright and cross-legged on a bed made from a bare wooden board and a single blanket, meditating in silence.
The guard following Altaïr shrugged. "He's been like this ever since he arrived. Either sitting there without moving or doing some basic physical training.
"We knew he was a Hunter who'd gotten into trouble and worried he'd be difficult to manage. We never expected him to be so cooperative."
"Please treat him well. He's an excellent Hunter who made a few mistakes. The Guild is only disciplining him according to its rules.
"Once his sentence is over, he'll return to the Hunter ranks," Altaïr said quietly.
"Understood. That's what our superiors told us too. It's why he has a cell to himself and gets much better meals than an ordinary prisoner."
As they spoke, the man meditating inside the cell opened his eyes.
* * *
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