Monster Hunter:Volume3 Chapter3

Chapter 3 - Interviews

Zeeg stepped down from the carriage and found himself honestly disappointed by the scenery. It had not changed for the better - in fact, it hadn't changed much if at all.

Two days had passed, jostled about on the road from Minegarde. Now, with his backside aching, he finally laid eyes on the city of Nusti - and it looked so much like Minegarde that it gave him the strange, unsettling feeling of having traveled in a wide circle, only to arrive back where he had started.

Passing through a crowded marketplace bathed in the blood-red light of sunset, he found the same familiar layout: the workshop and gathering hall lined up along the edge of a cliff, a narrow road leading off to what looked like a guest house beyond.

For a hunter's first job in a new city, guild registration was a must. Pushing open the gathering hall door, Zeeg was immediately assaulted by the thick, heady air - a stench of alcohol and the body heat of too many people packed together. Even someone like Zeeg, who usually didn't flinch at much, felt lightheaded from it.

If all the dew of the jungle were made from liquor, he thought, it might smell like this.

No one stopped their drinking, but he could feel their eyes on him. Judging him, measuring him up by the look of his armor and weapons.

The gathering hall was dim even during the day, but the flickering candlelight caught on the crimson carapace of Zeeg's Rathalos armor, setting it aglow. The Lacerator Blade+ slung across his back, its blade stained a dark, bloodlike red, threw back the light in a way that made a few of the hunters squint against the glare.

He headed straight for the counter. As he approached, a woman seated behind it abruptly rose to her feet, surprising him.

She stood at least a head taller than him.

Her face was sharply beautiful, her nose a clean, straight line - but one of her eyes was a dull, lifeless orb. A prosthetic, he realized at once. Her body was solidly built, sturdy enough that the maid uniform she wore seemed almost comical on her. Zeeg wisely kept that opinion to himself.

"Nice gear," she said bluntly, not even bothering to properly look at him. "First time in a city guild?"

"No," Zeeg replied shortly.

He dug into his bag and pulled out the résumé Becky had prepared for him, sliding it across the counter. It bore the guild's official seal; with this, his Hunter Rank would carry over without the need to re-earn it from scratch.

The woman took the document, scanned it with barely a flicker of expression, and handed it back without so much as a nod.

It was a résumé that listed no small number of accomplishments - or so Zeeg thought. But judging from the woman's indifferent expression, it might as well have been a list of trash.

She scribbled something into the guild ledger, closed it with a snap, and dashed off a few strokes onto a small card before tossing it carelessly onto the counter. His guild registration card. Without it, he wouldn't be able to accept even a single quest.

"...Thanks," Zeeg muttered, giving a slight bow as he stepped away from the counter.

The woman didn't respond. She had already opened her book again, utterly uninterested.

What a cold-hearted woman, Zeeg thought with a grimace.

For a moment, Becky's warm smile flashed in his mind, and a wave of homesickness for Minegarde washed over him. Zeeg shook his head fiercely. He couldn't afford to get sentimental - not when he was about to form his own hunting party.

Steeling himself, he made his way to the bulletin board set up next to the counter. It held two types of postings: available quests, and notices recruiting companions for already accepted ones.

The system was exactly the same as back in Minegarde.

Zeeg scanned the list of quests. There were plenty to choose from - likely because Nusti was still a relatively new city, and the hunting grounds under its jurisdiction hadn't yet been thoroughly tamed.

("Guess I'll take this one.")

He chose a Basarios hunt and tore the quest sheet from the board.

Basarios, the Rock Wyvern, was a juvenile form of the Gravios. Though its shell could be carved into tough armor and hammers, it didn't have much practical use for those uninterested. Still, Basarios were known to cause trouble by mimicking rocks, lying in wait along trade routes.

This time was no different. A merchant caravan had reported a Basarios nesting along a volcanic pass.

It would be a good test of any potential party members.

Zeeg judged Basarios to be about the next level of threat after a Yian Kut-Ku - tough, sure, but not overwhelmingly dangerous. Its movements were sluggish, and as long as they avoided a direct hit from its fiery attacks, it wasn't anything to fear.

If a hunter struggled against a Basarios, they weren't someone Zeeg wanted in his party.

("Last time we fought two at once. One should be easy.")

Clutching the quest slip, Zeeg returned to the counter and slapped it down - loudly enough to make sure he was noticed.

The woman sighed heavily, clearly irritated, and shut her book with a thump before turning to him. Curious, Zeeg caught a glimpse of the book's cover: Bestiary of the Hunt, embossed in gold lettering.

"What is it?"

"I want to recruit partners for this quest," Zeeg said, "and I need a guest house room, too."

The woman skimmed the quest sheet, gave him a brief, disinterested look, and stamped it with the guild's official seal before shoving it back at him. Without a word, she flipped open the ledger again, checked something, and muttered,

"...Bishop Thirty-Five."

Then, without another glance, she returned to her book.

Zeeg knew the procedure well enough, but it still grated on him. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he stomped back to the bulletin board, pinned the quest sheet to the recruitment section, and scribbled underneath his room's number and a message:

"Seeking long-term hunting partners! From Kokoto Village!"

Mentioning Kokoto Village - and by extension its legendary village chief - was a gamble.

It might attract opportunists looking to ride his coattails, but just maybe, it would draw serious, skilled hunters worthy of the name.

"...Alright," Zeeg muttered.

Hoisting his bag onto his shoulder, he left the gathering hall behind.

By the time he was making his way toward the guest house, his mind buzzing with thoughts of what kind of people might answer his call, the rude woman at the counter was already a forgotten annoyance.

"So, what now?" Fradio asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Elmeria, clearly in a foul mood, said nothing. Neither did Gannon, still wrapped in bandages. The noise of the gathering hall, thick with the clatter of utensils and lively conversation, wasn't enough to drown out their voices, but neither companion seemed inclined to speak.

It had been a week since Zeeg had left their party, and still Elmeria showed no sign of taking on a new quest. Fradio understood the reason well enough - she was holding out hope that Zeeg might return - but even so, his arms were beginning to itch for action.

If this standoff dragged on much longer, he thought, he might as well head out alone and enjoy a date with a Gypceros.

"We're not exactly hurting for money, but Sir Gannon's injuries are healing nicely," Fradio continued, trying to coax some response. "I'd say it's about time we got back to the hunt, wouldn't you?"

Gannon turned his unbandaged eye toward Elmeria. She, however, only stared into the blood-dark surface of the wine pooled in her goblet, unmoving.

She looked thinner than before, the soft curve of her cheeks having hollowed out slightly. Fradio hoped she hadn't started losing muscle mass. Lifting the edge of his mask just enough to drink, he sipped his own wine, savoring the rich flavor of the fruit sharpened by a pleasant astringency. He waited, but Elmeria said nothing.

It wasn't sorrow he saw in her. No, the emotion simmering just beneath the surface was anger - anger directed at herself for misspeaking, and at Zeeg for leaving without a word.

Zeeg's departure had been clumsy, to say the least. If they had been nothing more than a temporary hunting party assembled for a single mission, a silent farewell over a mug of beer might have sufficed.

But they had been together since Zeeg had first arrived in Minegarde. After so much time, he owed them at least a proper goodbye, no matter how awkward.

"Still sulking, Ellie?"

The teasing voice floated down along with a clatter of dishes. Fradio turned to see Becky standing there, smiling mischievously.

"I'm not sulking," Elmeria snapped.

She reached out, grabbed a freshly-served skewer of grilled Aptonoth meat, and bit into it savagely. Juices dripped from the seared flesh, and she hissed a quick "Hot!" as she licked the sizzling fat from her lips.

Fradio helped himself to a skewer as well, stripping the meat from the stick and neatly cutting it into small pieces with his knife and fork before slipping a bite beneath his mask. The meat was rich, the spice blend mingling perfectly with the sweet, fatty edge of the skin.

The slight toughness betrayed the fact that it had come from a wild Aptonoth, but that only added to its flavor.

"C'mon, no need to act tough," Becky said, her voice light with mockery.

Elmeria shot her a glare, her eyes faintly glassy from the wine. Her appetite had dwindled, but her drinking had certainly increased.

"Shut up," Elmeria muttered. "I'm not pretending. If anything, I'm glad he's gone. It's thanks to him we've been screwing up so much lately."

"So you're still planning to keep hunting?" Becky pressed.

"Of course I am!"

Snatching up her goblet, Elmeria drained it in one go and refilled it without hesitation.

"I'm just saying, none of the current quests look worth taking. I'm not going to waste my time hunting Yian Kut-Ku or gathering Special Mushrooms. And as for a Khezu-"

Fradio shook his head.

He had once been swallowed whole by one of those grotesque, sightless wyverns, and the memory still made his skin crawl. Compared to the vibrant, delicate beauty of a Gypceros, a Khezu - with its pallid skin and preference for damp, shadowy places - was nothing but an abomination.

"Yeah. He's in no shape for it," Elmeria continued, "And besides, maybe it's not a bad thing to take it easy once in a while. Unless you have something interesting lined up?"

"Well..." Becky said, placing a single sheet of paper onto the table, "maybe I do."

Fradio leaned in alongside Elmeria to read it.

"...Meat Grill Festival?" Elmeria echoed incredulously.

Sure enough, the paper read, "Calling All Hunters! Grand Opening! The 18th Annual Meat Grill Festival!!"

Elmeria gave Becky an exasperated look.

"What the hell is this?"

"Exactly what it says," Becky replied brightly. "It's a competition to see who can grill the most Well-Done Steaks. Raw meat must be gathered on-site, of course. The winner gets a special prize: a piece of King Meat! Doesn't that sound perfect for you, Ellie?"

"King Meat, huh..."

Elmeria frowned, considering.

It was, admittedly, a tempting prize - for a hammer user. King Meat was a key material used to craft the Enormous Ham, a weapon both whimsical and sought-after.

Elmeria already possessed a Breath Core and didn't need the Enormous Ham, and the crafting costs were steep - but King Meat was rare enough that simply having it would be worth bragging about.

Besides, Fradio could always meet up with his beloved Gypceros later.

The Meat Grill Festival, on the other hand, wouldn't come around again until next year.

"It does sound like fun," Fradio said, earning Elmeria's groan. "Come now, there's no other quest we're excited about anyway. Besides, grilling meat is one of a hunter's basic skills. Maybe it's a good time to go back to basics and sharpen our instincts. Sir Gannon's not fully recovered, either - we could use some easy targets like Aptonoth or Bullfango to ease back into things, yes?"

Elmeria turned to Gannon.

The large man, his face still heavily bandaged, gave her a solemn nod.

She might not realize it, but Fradio had noticed - Gannon had lost weight since being poisoned by the Rathian.

The poison itself shouldn't have lingered; Rathian toxins didn't stay in the body long.

No, this was a result of a deeper issue - a wound to the spirit.

Failing to dodge that poisonous tail strike had shaken him badly.

It was said that the moment one became conscious of their own aging, they truly began to grow old.

And Gannon, after all, was already sixty.

By rights, he should have retired to a peaceful village, regaling the local children with tales of his exploits.

Yet here he was, still fighting.

"You know what," Elmeria said at last. "Let's do it."

She grabbed the paper and waved it at Becky.

"As Fradio said, there's nothing else worth doing right now. I'll come kill some time. Besides, carrying around an Enormous Ham would be hilarious."

Becky's smile widened. Without missing a beat, she turned toward the bustling gathering hall, raised her voice, and declared,

"Attention, everyone! Elmeria Franport - pride and joy of Minegarde - will be participating in the Meat Grill Festival! Who else wants to join? Especially hammer users - you won't want to miss out on the fabulous prize: the King Meat, perfect for crafting your very own Enormous Ham!"

Realizing she had just been used for promotional purposes, Elmeria's eyes widened.

Becky shot her a mischievous grin before turning back toward the counter, ready to register the flood of eager participants now waving their arms.

"...Now that is stage presence," Fradio muttered.

He took a deep drink of wine and speared another piece of juicy Aptonoth meat with his fork, chuckling as the hot juices burst free.

Zeeg watched the departing hunter's back disappear beyond the door, then slumped heavily into a chair with a long, exhausted sigh.

That made fifteen now. Fifteen interviews, and not a single one had resulted in a new comrade. There had been a few who looked capable enough, but not one he could truly call a partner.

The trip to the Volcano was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. If he couldn't find anyone by then, he would have no choice but to set out alone.

Against a Basarios, he could probably manage if he fought cautiously. But that wasn't the point - he hadn't come all the way to this town just to do everything by himself.

Still, Zeeg found himself surprised by just how draining these interviews had been.

He could get a rough sense of a hunter's skill from their equipment, sure, but so far not a single applicant had shown up wearing Rathalos or Rathian gear.

The best-equipped hunter he'd seen wore a full set of Cephalos armor, made from the scales of sand-dwelling monsters - but she'd made it quite clear she intended to lead the team herself. He had politely shown her the door.

Maybe it was my age after all, he thought with a wry grimace.

Most hunters with real ability were well into their late twenties or older.

Hunters like himself, Elmeria, or Freda - who had managed to earn wyvern gear while still in their teens - were rare.

Not that he was arrogant enough to think himself some prodigy.

Maybe once, in the past. But now he understood all too well - without the help of his comrades, he never would have made it this far.

Luck might let him take down one monster, maybe two. But to hunt enough for a full set of weapons and armor - that took something more tangible.

Even so, Zeeg didn't feel any desire to partner with hunters much older than himself. If they were like Gannon - silent and watchful - that would be fine. But if they started barking orders, well... he might as well stick with Elmeria.

Maybe trying to find someone around his own age, willing to take on a Basarios, had been setting the bar too high from the start.

It might be smarter to treat this hunt as a one-off. Afterward, he could lower the difficulty - take a quest for a Yian Kut-Ku or something - and try recruiting again.

A sharp pain twinged in his stomach, and he remembered he hadn't eaten all morning.

The first applicant had shown up before breakfast, and there had been no break since.

Rubbing his aching temple, Zeeg rose from his chair.

When he'd joined Elmeria's party, it had been by the Guild Master's recommendation - there had been no formal interview like this.

Still, she must have gone through something similar at some point. Was she still doing it even now? The thought brushed across his mind like a cold wind, but he shook it off.

In any case, he needed food. The guest house would prepare a special meal if he asked, but it came at a steep price.

With most of his money earmarked for a new weapon, he couldn't afford luxuries right now.

It would be cheaper to roast some raw meat himself.

He fished his BBQ Spit out of his pack and turned toward the balcony to set it up...

"Excuse me!"

...Only to freeze as a voice spoke from beyond the door, startlingly close.

Zeeg almost dropped the spit on his foot.

Usually, he could sense when someone approached, even before they knocked - but this time, he had noticed nothing.

As he hesitated, the voice came again.

"Forgive the intrusion! Might this be the room of Sir Zeeg Grandest? I saw the notice on the board and wished to speak with you."

The speaker's voice was low, distinctly male, and oddly formal - but Zeeg managed to catch the gist.

Another applicant, apparently.

"Ah - yeah!"

Setting the BBQ Spit hurriedly on the table, Zeeg checked his gear.

Something about the man's voice demanded it.

He always conducted interviews in full armor, and expected the same of his applicants.

It was the quickest way to judge a hunter's ability outside the field.

His Lacerator Blade+ was hanging on the wall nearby.

Usually, hunters carried their weapons too.

Someone who skimped on weaponry in favor of flashy armor tended to be overly cautious. And the reverse - Zeeg winced, remembering his younger self - suggested reckless impatience.

"So - uh, yeah. Come in!"

He deliberately used a slightly rough tone.

Better to establish from the outset who would be leading the party.

If someone couldn't handle a little bluntness, they wouldn't survive working with him.

"Excuse me," the voice repeated - and the door swung open.

The man who entered was tall, with dark skin and a lithe build, moving without so much as a whisper of footsteps.

Even a wyvern would struggle to notice someone like that.

He stopped a good distance inside the room, standing casually - but there was not a single gap in his stance.

His hair, a muted gray, was slicked back and tied behind him, much like Zeeg's own.

His one open eye was blue and ringed with strange concentric lines rather than a vertical slit - and the other was closed, perhaps the mark of an old wound.

His armor... if it could even be called that, was strange.

He wore plain white clothes, reinforced only in vulnerable spots like the shoulders, elbows, throat, and waist, with thin plates that looked more decorative than functional.

His loose, ballooning trousers were tucked into black boots, and strange patterns were painted along the hems.

But what truly drew the eye was the weapon on his back.

It resembled a wyvern's talon - a pair of talons, in fact.

They looked almost like twin one-handed swords, but distinct from any weapon Zeeg knew.

"You've noticed my blades," the man said smoothly, a thin sprig of some herb clamped between his lips.

He smiled faintly, his expression calm and easygoing, and Zeeg guessed he was in his mid-twenties.

"Those aren't... sword-and-shield, are they?" Zeeg asked cautiously.

"Indeed not," the man replied, nodding as if approving the question. "These are my beloved blades - Zanki. I am a wielder of dual blades."

"Dual blades...?"

"Just so - Youth's ignorance blooms; no shame in the mind's pure soil; learning comes with time - as the saying goes."

The peculiar rhythm of the words made Zeeg blink.

Was he being insulted just now? It was hard to tell.

"That was a senryū," the man explained, his open eye narrowing.

Zeeg was even more confused.

Did he just say ryū - dragon?

Was this Zanki weapon crafted from some monster he'd never heard of?

The man seemed to catch his bewilderment and chuckled softly.

"Heh... Though I say ryū, I do not speak of wyverns. Senryū is a form of wordplay from my homeland."

"I... see?"

The man straightened and gave a formal, shallow bow.

"Forgive my late introduction. I am Entarō. If it pleases you, call me Enta."

"Huh... yeah, sure..."

Zeeg found himself a little overwhelmed.

Even Entarō's name had a unique ring to it.

Still, for all the man's flowery phrasing, his words were clear enough, and Zeeg had no trouble understanding him.

"Uh, well... why don't you have a seat?"

Zeeg, desperate to regain control of the conversation, gestured toward a chair. But Enta merely raised a hand.

"Nay, I shall decline."

At first, Zeeg thought he meant to remain standing, but instead, the man - who had introduced himself as Enta - sat cross-legged directly on the floor. Somehow, the way he settled there fit so naturally, he looked less like a man and more like a bronze statue that had stood there for years, untouched by time.

Feeling awkward about being the only one sitting properly, Zeeg followed suit, lowering himself to the floor as well. It was uncomfortable; whenever he took breaks out on a hunt, he always used a folding chair that came with his BBQ Spit kit. Sitting on the bare ground felt foreign.

"So, uh... you saw the notice on the board, right?" Zeeg asked.

"Indeed," Enta replied with a courteous nod.

"Getting right to it... what's your Hunter Rank?"

"My rank is Samurai. And yourself?"

For a moment, Zeeg thought he saw the gleam of a blade flash in Enta's open eye, and he swallowed hard. The sheer pressure coming off the man made it feel like a wrong answer might literally cost him his head.

"M-me? I'm a Strider..."

"Oh-ho!"

With a sudden spark of enthusiasm, Enta's lone eye widened. Startled, Zeeg nearly reached for his greatsword on the wall. Was the man trying to startle him, just to enjoy the reaction?

But Enta merely shook his head slowly and said,

"To think that one so young surpasses even I in rank! I am most impressed."

Still seated cross-legged, he bent low in a deep, skillful bow.

And he stayed there.

After a long, awkward silence, Zeeg began to wonder if the man had fallen asleep, but just as he was about to check, Enta finally lifted his head once more.

Trying to keep his balance in this strange conversation, Zeeg felt slightly dizzy.

"A-anyway," he tried, "you said 'young' - but do you even know how old I am?"

"I do not, but I venture to guess... eighteen years?"

Dead on.

Sure, nobody looking at him would mistake him for forty or fifty, but to peg his age exactly was still impressive. Maybe it was just a lucky guess... or maybe not.

"And you?" Zeeg asked. "How old are you?"

"This year, I have reached twenty-five," Enta declared. "Five years ago, I drifted to this land, learned of the way of hunters, and was immediately captivated. It is the perfect vocation for my training."

"Training?" Zeeg parroted.

"Indeed. I strive to hone my blade and become a peerless swordmaster. In these peaceful times, there are precious few places where one can engage in honest, life-or-death battle. Yet in the life of a hunter, that spirit endures. There is no better arena for perfecting one's skill."

"But then, why'd you want to form a party? Wouldn't solo hunting fit your training better?"

"An astute question," Enta said, folding his arms and nodding. He then leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

Zeeg, caught by the sudden shift, leaned forward too.

"...In truth, I have another ambition. Forming a party is but a means to that end - I wish to spread the glory of dual blades far and wide."

Zeeg straightened up in surprise. That wasn't exactly something anyone needed to whisper about. If anything, he could have shouted it from the rooftops.

But Enta, oblivious to Zeeg's thoughts, nodded emphatically to himself.

"The best way is to show others firsthand the brilliance of the dual blades! Especially the younger hunters like yourself - once you witness their magnificence, you too will surely be tempted to wield them!"

Even with that passionate speech, Zeeg remained unconvinced. He had no intention of abandoning the greatsword he had wielded since before he officially became a hunter.

Besides, dual blades... weren't they just two small swords?

Worse, they had no shield. Greatswords and heavy bowguns could block with their massive frames, and even hammers could compensate for their lack of defense with overwhelming power.

But dual blades - their cutting edge didn't seem particularly impressive, nor did they offer any means of defense. Zeeg couldn't imagine they were easy to use at all.

As if reading his mind, Enta fixed him with a sharp gaze and chuckled.

"Heh... I know exactly what you are thinking - Two blades side by side; yet both are weak, unrefined; a pair, not the best - That is what every hunter thinks... Until they see my technique for themselves!"

With a loud slap to his knee, Enta beamed.

"Once you see me slicing through Basarios's rock-hard hide like it were sashimi, you'll be singing a different tune! You'll envy the dual blades, mark my words! Behold! Witness the blade dance of a demon!"

Suddenly, without rising from his cross-legged position, Enta drew both swords from the sheaths strapped to his back. Their polished blades gleamed menacingly under the light.

"H-hey! What the hell are you doing!?" Zeeg cried, jolting back.

Snapped from his theatrics, Enta blinked his lone eye, mumbled an apology, and hastily resheathed his weapons.

This was no laughing matter.

Had Zeeg not spoken up, he might have been the one carved into neat little slices, not Basarios. There was a dangerous aura about Enta, no doubt about it. A strange one, too.

"...Right. So, uh, your résumé?" Zeeg prompted, trying to regain focus.

"Here it is."

From within his robes, Enta produced a folded sheet of paper and handed it over.

It bore the official seal of the Hunter's Guild. Listed on it were records of all the quests Enta had undertaken - monster hunts, transport missions, and the like. The entries weren't arranged chronologically but by category: wyvern species and their respective numbers hunted, goods delivered for transport requests, and the tallies of successes and failures.

A quick scan was enough to tell Zeeg that Enta was no slouch. His record against wyverns in particular was impressive - far beyond what an average hunter could boast.

Still, something felt off.

Judging by the list, Enta had likely been bouncing between different parties, focusing almost exclusively on wyvern hunts.

That wasn't what Zeeg had in mind for his group. He had made that clear with the notice on the guild board.

But Enta had probably applied because this mission involved a wyvern - specifically, a Basarios.

Turning him away would be simple enough. But Zeeg hesitated. He had only just been thinking that maybe, this time, the group would be a one-shot team - handle the mission and disband.

Unlike when he had joined Elmeria's team, this group would be full of first-timers working together. No telling what their real skills were like.

Jumping straight into a wyvern hunt under those circumstances... maybe it was reckless after all.

Still, canceling the quest outright would leave a bad impression with the Guild. If word got around that he had pulled out without a good reason, future requests might dry up - especially important ones.

And Enta's résumé - it even showed prior hunts against Basarios. Five of them.

That wasn't a huge number compared to his other quarry, but it was enough to earn respect.

Zeeg steeled himself, folding the résumé and handing it back to Enta.

"Alright. I'll be counting on you," he said.

"Understood," Enta replied.

Taking the résumé, Enta tucked it away inside his robes. Zeeg then pulled out the contract for the Basarios hunt. Every member of the hunting party had to sign it before submitting it to the Guild - only then could they officially depart.

Producing a brush-like writing tool, Enta scrawled a strange set of characters beneath Zeeg's signature: 炎太郎.

"Is that your name?" Zeeg asked, tilting his head.

"It is written in a script not used in Schrade," Enta explained, stowing the brush once more. "The Guild has permitted us to use our own country's writing, so I choose to do so. 炎 for 'En,' 太 for 'Ta,' and 郎 for 'Rō'."

"Huh..." Zeeg muttered, staring intently at the signature. It looked more like a drawing than a name. He had heard stories that the world stretched far beyond the Kingdom of Schrade, but this was his first time encountering a piece of it with his own eyes.

"So then," Enta said, glancing about the room, "where are the other hunters?"

"Ah, well... there aren't any yet. You're the first," Zeeg admitted.

"Ah, I see. In that case, allow me to assist in selecting the others. It is a matter of life and death, after all."

"Uh, wait, that's-"

Zeeg faltered. Enta quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Was that unwelcome?" he asked, his voice calm but probing.

"No, it's not that," Zeeg said quickly, hesitated a moment, then added, "It's just... Well, I don't mean to ignore your opinion, but this is my party. I want to choose the members myself."

"I see... That is understandable. I shall leave the final decision to you."

"Yeah. I appreciate it."

Zeeg felt a relief far deeper than words could express. He had made his choice - he didn't want to have it overturned and be forced to start all over again. Now, just two more members to find.

The weight on his shoulders lessened a little. Part of it was simply having found one companion already, but more importantly, he had decided that this party was only for this hunt. If they got along, they could continue together. If not, no harm done.

Seeking a long-term team from the outset had been a mistake.

Thinking back, even when he had joined Elmeria's party, it had been intended as a one-time learning experience. After that hunt - where he had contributed almost nothing - and a morning of a strange incident, she had invited him to join her again. Their long association afterward had been the exception, not the rule.

Feeling clearer, Zeeg was about to fold up the contract when he sensed a presence outside the door. Unlike Enta's arrival, this was someone more... normal. The presence halted in front of the door - and stayed there. No knock came.

("What the...?") Zeeg tilted his head. At that instant, Enta, still seated cross-legged, drew something from his coat and flicked it over his shoulder without even turning around.

There was a dull thud, then a sharp cry from beyond the door. A small dagger, its blade oddly shaped to fit a keyhole, was now embedded in the lock.

If he had aimed for that, his skill was terrifying.

"Peeking is a shameful habit," Enta said, sounding for all the world like he was the master of the room.

Zeeg swallowed the complaint rising to his lips. If this was an applicant, it wouldn't do to start off with an argument - no hunter would want to join a party that looked like it was about to fall apart.

"...Come in," Zeeg called, sitting up straight.

Enta rose soundlessly to his feet, positioning himself behind Zeeg with his hands clasped behind his back. Zeeg caught a glimpse of the twin swords at Enta's back but chose to ignore them for now.

The door creaked open hesitantly.

The figure that entered was more boy than man, his face still round with youth. Yet he was tall - taller than Zeeg by the width of a fist, by his quick reckoning. His brown eyes were half-lidded, giving him a perpetually drowsy look, and his short brown hair stuck up wildly, as if he'd just rolled out of bed.

One glance at his equipment, and Zeeg pegged him for a rookie.

His armor was crafted entirely from Velociprey and Velocidrome materials - tough but basic blue-scaled gear, from helm to greaves. When Zeeg had first arrived in town, he had worn even shabbier armor - but he had at least splurged on a decent weapon.

This boy, however, had a plain bone sword at his waist - a one-handed blade that looked more like a jagged saw than a weapon. A Bone Pick, or perhaps a Bone Spike, if Zeeg remembered the name correctly.

The boy glanced at Zeeg, then at Enta looming behind him, and hunched his shoulders before giving a timid bow.

"Um... is this the place recruiting for the Basarios hunt...?" he asked, voice so faint it seemed ready to vanish.

"Yeah-"

"It is indeed," Enta said, cutting off Zeeg without a hint of shame.

Zeeg shot him a look over his shoulder. Enta met his gaze, and nodded as if to say "Ah, right," but offered no apology.

Suppressing a sigh, Zeeg turned back to the boy.

He was still standing awkwardly by the door, clearly reluctant to approach. Zeeg understood - he must have been intimidated by their gear. After all, the Rathalos set Zeeg wore was no easy prize.

"Come on. Have a seat," Zeeg said, patting the floor in front of him. There was no point dragging out a chair at this stage.

The boy approached as if expecting a Velociprey to lunge from the shadows at any moment. He settled where Enta had been sitting before, back stiff, eyes briefly meeting Zeeg's before darting down to the floor.

Behind him, Enta exhaled softly through his nose.

Zeeg felt much the same. This boy wasn't necessarily cowardly, but he lacked confidence. That hesitation, that self-doubt - it could prove fatal in the hunt, where a moment's indecision could mean death.

If this were a simple Velociprey cull or a mushroom gathering quest, it would be another matter.

But this was a wyvern hunt. A Basarios. And if one of them faltered, it could cost them all their lives.

Just as Zeeg opened his mouth to refuse, the boy pulled a folded sheet of paper from the pouch at his waist, placed it on the floor, and pushed it toward him.

("A résumé?") Zeeg thought, but on closer look, it didn't seem like one.

Curious, he picked it up, broke the wax seal, and unfolded it. A quick glance told him it was a letter of introduction, issued by the Guild itself, requesting that Zeeg take charge of training a new recruit.

He couldn't fathom why the request had come to him, of all people. He had yet to accomplish anything noteworthy. Puzzled, he took a closer look - and noticed the seal stamped at the bottom. It wasn't from this city. It belonged to the Hunter's Guild of Minegarde.

"...Um, Miss Becky told me to bring this to you," the boy said hesitantly. "She said... it would be a great learning experience."

"Becky?" Zeeg repeated, raising an eyebrow. He glanced back down at the letter.

The wording was stiff and formal, just what he'd expect from official Guild correspondence - but at the very end, almost like an afterthought, there was a single casual line: "Take good care of him, okay?" The handwriting was unmistakably Becky's.

Memories stirred within him: the day he first arrived in Minegarde. Had the Guild Master not vouched for him back then, he never would have joined Elmeria's party - and without that chance, he doubted he'd have grown strong enough to be clad in Rathalos armor so soon.

Thinking on it, refusing would be the easy path. But could he live with that? Becky had gone out of her way to support him more times than he could count. To turn away now - to betray the trust she was placing in him - felt wrong.

"...Got a résumé?" Zeeg asked, lifting his gaze from the letter. It was only fair to at least take a look.

One couldn't judge a hunter by their armor alone. Some made it a point of pride to hunt wyverns in mediocre gear. This boy hardly seemed the type, but there was always a chance he had some hidden skill.

The boy nodded and produced a second sheet of paper. Zeeg accepted it and unfolded it.

This time, it really was a résumé.

A quick scan was enough to see that the boy's record was nearly blank. He had taken down a few Yian Kut-Ku solo, but those were more bird wyverns than true wyverns. Dangerous if underestimated, yes - but hardly a match for the real heavyweights.

Still, thinking back to his own record when he first came to Minegarde, Zeeg couldn't say the boy was any worse. If he could handle a Yian Kut-Ku alone, he might not be much help against a Basarios, but at least he wouldn't get in the way.

He checked the boy's name: Brass Lagoon. Hailing from Piniq, one of the small frontier villages near Minegarde. Zeeg had never been there himself, but he'd heard it was founded by retired hunters.

His eyes drifted to the age listed beneath the name - and widened in surprise.

Sixteen.

He had pegged the boy for older at first glance, but now that he knew, Brass suddenly seemed much younger, his expressions more boyish.

There weren't many who came to the city at that age. Zeeg himself had, but it was rare. Elmeria, he recalled, had been registered with the Guild even younger, though she'd had Gannon, her retainer, at her side.

Coming alone at sixteen, with no one to back him up - that took guts.

And at least on the surface, Brass seemed like a good-natured kid.

Hunters tended to be a rough bunch. There were plenty of good men and women among them, but there were just as many who would think nothing of exploiting rookies - gathering up greenhorns to use as bait, feeding their fiery spirits into easy victories.

Such types were despised, of course, but there was another school of thought: that the Guild was no place for amateurs, and those too naïve to survive deserved what they got.

True, the Guild sometimes smoothed the path for beginners - as it had for Zeeg - but that protection ended quickly. After that, a hunter's life and death were their own responsibility.

Looking at Brass now, he resembled nothing so much as an Aptanoth wandering haplessly into a hungry hunter's path. No wonder Becky had chased Zeeg all the way to Nusti to hand him this task. She expected him to return the favor she'd once shown him.

If Brass could make it through this first trial, the Guild would gain another capable hunter - and Becky had always said they could never have too many.

("But...") Zeeg frowned inwardly, looking at the weapon he carried: a sword and shield.

Fast enough, sure - but against wyverns, not exactly reliable.

A Yian Kut-Ku was one thing; one could get by with a basic weapon. But anything tougher, and it became a question of whether the blade could even pierce the hide.

If it were the Master Blade from Kokoto Village, the one Freda carried, even Rathalos shell could be split. But with something like a Bone Spike... most likely, the blade would bounce harmlessly off.

As he glanced back down at the résumé, Zeeg noticed a small notation he had missed before. Under Special Skills, in faint letters: Combining (Advanced).

It was a skill often overlooked in hunts, but when used well, it could transform the entire field into an arsenal. Having someone adept at combining on a team was no small advantage.

Still, what to do...

Before he could make up his mind, a voice spoke from behind.

"I have no objection," Enta said.

Zeeg had planned to ask for his opinion, but being preempted like this left a sour taste. He gave a vague nod, folded up the résumé, and handed it back to Brass.

The boy accepted it carefully, almost reverently.

"Welcome aboard," Zeeg said, extending a hand.

Brass blinked, startled, then quickly grabbed Zeeg's gauntleted hand with his own, their armor clinking faintly.

"Th-thank you very much! I'll do my best!"

"No need to push yourself too hard," Zeeg said, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "The Basarios isn't an opponent you can afford to underestimate, but both its poison and sleep gases come with obvious tells before they spew. As long as you don't miss the signs, it's not something to fear. Handle it right, and it's easier than a Kut-Ku."

"R-really?"

Brass's wide-eyed disbelief was almost comical. Zeeg nodded firmly.

"It's tough, sure - but that's all. Just one thing... your Bone Pick might not cut through its hide. You're good at combining, right? I'll be counting on you for that too."

"Y-yes, sir!"

The boy's face lit up, cheeks flushing with excitement. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and he nodded so hard it seemed his helmet might topple off.

How long that enthusiasm would last, Zeeg couldn't say. Basarios was no Rathalos - but it was still a wyvern, through and through.

Zeeg produced the contract and handed it over for a signature.

Brass - who, by all appearances, was no rugged or battle-hardened youth - was an unknown quantity when it came to facing a true wyvern, hatchling or not. He might well freeze up... or worse, take a charge straight to the chest.

Keeping a firm hold on the boy's hand, Zeeg rose to his feet and helped Brass to stand. With how Brass stood taller than him, the sword and shield strapped to his back looked almost comically small, more like a dagger than a proper weapon. With a frame like his, a greatsword or a lance would surely suit him better. Still, switching weapons now would only hinder their hunt, so Zeeg decided to leave well enough alone.

"That makes three of us, then," Enta said, arms crossed, sweeping his lone eye over the group. "A greatsword, a sword-and-shield, and dual blades. All close-range fighters... Will we be adding one more to our ranks?"

Zeeg nodded. With this setup, what they really needed was a bowgunner. They could, of course, simply charge in like a pack of Velociprey, relying on brute force - but having a gunner would expand their tactical options considerably. A skilled hunter covering their backs would allow the frontliners to focus solely on the target ahead.

"Let's head to the gathering hall," Zeeg said, jabbing a thumb at the door. "We'll need to update the posting. One more - Bowgun users only."

"A ranged fighter, hmm..." Enta narrowed his lone eye. "I don't much care for them, but if it's your decision, I shall abide - Though shame may arise; silence falls upon the heart; peace in quiet reigns."

"Bowgun... I'll do my best," Brass murmured vaguely, clenching his fist for reasons known only to himself.

Zeeg was tempted to ask what exactly he meant to "do his best" at - but decided against it as he grabbed his greatsword from against the wall. Better not to give the impression that every little thing had to be discussed and agreed upon. When the moment came, he didn't want Brass getting any ideas about second-guessing orders. They needed a bowgunner; if Brass had a problem with that, he was free to leave.

Completely unaware of Zeeg's silent calculus, Brass hurried after him and Enta.

They descended the stairs, passing a few hunters on the way down, but none of the faces were familiar. That wasn't surprising - both Zeeg and Brass were newcomers to town. Even Enta, it seemed, was not acquainted with anyone here, exchanging no greetings as they passed.

The moment they stepped out of the guest house, the unrelenting sun struck them with full force, searing their skin. The weather was too good - almost obnoxiously so.

As they made their way downhill toward the gathering hall, Zeeg caught sight of an odd figure loitering by the entrance. A girl, clad in a skirt flared wide in black and white, stood beneath a black parasol trimmed in white lace. At a glance, she might have passed for a tavern maid on an errand - if not for the battered, oversized travel case she carried in her free hand. The scuffed and dirty leather suggested a life spent constantly on the move.

Something about her tugged at Zeeg's memory. He slowed, frowning, trying to place the familiarity. That outfit... he had seen it somewhere before.

As he watched, the girl folded her parasol and disappeared into the gathering hall. He caught a glimpse of her profile - just a fleeting glance - but it was enough to notice the glint of glasses perched on her nose.

"Is something the matter?" Enta asked.

"Huh? No... it's nothing."

Zeeg shook his head. If he couldn't place it, it probably wasn't important. He brushed the thought aside and motioned for the others to move on. As they pushed open the gathering hall doors, the familiar crush of alcohol, smoke, and humanity washed over them. They waded through it, making for the bulletin board.

At the counter, Zeeg spotted the girl again, speaking with the guild receptionist - the one with the prosthetic eye. Maybe she was trying to get hired as a server.

At the board, Zeeg began searching for the notice he had posted earlier. It wasn't unusual for hunters to take down postings they were interested in, so it didn't surprise him that it wasn't exactly where he had left it.

"I think it was around here," Brass said, pointing.

Following his indication, Zeeg found the notice buried halfway down a thick stack of overlapping papers. It was barely visible - left untouched, surely no one else would show up today. Just retrieving it made the trip worthwhile.

Using the bulletin board itself as a writing surface, Zeeg crossed out the old posting and updated the notes section:

"Seeking one more! Bowgun users only!"

He pinned it back up, making sure to place it in the most prominent spot - right at the very top. There was just one day left before the deadline. If they didn't find a fourth by then, they would have to set out as a trio.

Against a Basarios, three hunters would still manage... probably.

Just as Zeeg secured the paper, something black flickered past. Before he could even register what had happened, the notice was plucked from the board and sent fluttering through the air - deftly caught by a gloved hand.

Neither Zeeg nor Enta had sensed the approach. Enta reacted instinctively, leaping back a full table's length, hands flashing toward his weapons. Brass, startled out of his wits, fell flat on his rear.

Zeeg turned sharply, just in time to see the fluttering paper land neatly in the left hand of the girl from outside. She balanced her black parasol on her right shoulder, moving with a fluid, almost dancer-like grace.

She read the notice, her blue eyes - magnified behind her glasses - scanning the words with a sharp, gleaming intensity. Her long black hair, curled into vertical rolls on either side of her head, swayed slightly as she read.

She looked to be around Zeeg's age. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak-

"...This posting - yours?" she asked, her voice hard and clear, like machalite struck against stone.

In that instant, it hit him: he remembered where he had seen her.

"You were at Kokoto-" he blurted.

At his words, her eyes flickered - a slight, unmistakable recognition.

So it was her.

Back when Zeeg had returned to Kokoto, bored while Elmeria was off mining for the Breath Core in the volcanic zones, he had seen this girl working at the village gathering hall. If he recalled correctly, the village chief had called her Vivi.

And she was a hunter, too.

He remembered now - when the Monoblos had reappeared near the village, there had been a frantic scramble among the hunters to claim the kill. Zeeg had gotten the mark, but it had simply been luck of patrol routes - not a matter of skill.

"Vivienne Sharon, at your service," the girl said, speaking both names like a formal introduction. "How fortunate - I was just looking for a quest I could join immediately. I don't know your companions, but you... I know you're someone I can serve without worry."

"S-serve...?" Zeeg stammered. "Listen, we're just looking for a Bowgun user-"

"Precisely why I am the perfect candidate," Vivi interrupted. "From the looks of you all, you're nothing but frontliners. Surely, the bowgunner you're seeking is someone meant to support the party - a light bowgun user, yes?"

"Well, yeah, that's true," Zeeg admitted, frowning. "But where's your bowgun, then?"

"Why, right here," Vivi said, as if the answer were obvious.

Without missing a beat, she extended the handle of her parasol. With a soft click, the tip opened up, revealing a gun barrel glinting from within. The frilled black parasol - ornate and delicate - was, astonishingly, a bowgun. Even Enta, witnessing it for the first time, let out a low hum of admiration.

"This is the Dark Parasol. It cannot use piercing or cluster shots, but in exchange, it can handle every type of support ammo."

As she spoke, she set down the battered travel case she had been carrying, unlatched it, and produced a folded piece of paper, which she offered to Zeeg. Taking it, he unfolded it to find a neatly written résumé - one that made her skill immediately clear.

Given the nature of the light bowgun, it was unlikely she'd worked many solo hunts, yet even so, the list was impressive: ten Rathalos, seven Plesioth, three Khezu - and, remarkably, two Monoblos.

The Monoblos, the One-Horned Wyvern, never appeared in guild-sanctioned hunting grounds where teams were permitted. In other words, these two were solo kills - taken down single-handedly, and with a light bowgun at that.

"Is there a problem?" Vivi asked.

There was none. Hunters of her caliber were not easy to come by, even if one went looking with a contract in hand. And even if their previous encounter had been brief, there was a certain comfort in having a familiar face from his home village.

"You're in," Zeeg said decisively, producing the contract and handing it to her.

Vivi collapsed the Dark Parasol with an elegant motion, accepted the document, and after scribbling her name at the bottom, pushed up the bridge of her glasses with two fingers. Her lips curved into a smile - so perfectly poised it seemed almost artificial - as she said,

"Pleased to serve you, Master."

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