"Crimson Blade Slash II and III?!" Altaïr immediately perked up.
"Don't rush just yet." Amos calmed him down. "I still need to ponder the specific details. I'll listen to your thoughts then too. "Also, your Long Sword swordsmanship was learned from Isis, right? That child has a very solid foundation, but many advanced sword techniques she hasn't even had the chance to learn herself yet. If you're interested, I can teach you too."
"Of course I'm interested! Can I stay here? Right here in the training grounds!" Altaïr blurted out before feeling it was somewhat impolite, quickly amending, "I mean, during my time in Dundorma, come over frequently."
"Of course you can." The smile on Amos's face became even more evident.
Compared to Isis, who was more like "I'll learn whatever you teach," a student like Altaïr, who was all "Teach me more! I want to learn everything!" clearly stimulated his desire to instruct as a teacher more.
Watching the two getting along harmoniously, even enthusiastically, Isis inexplicably felt a sense of grievance. Are they the real grandfather and grandson? How come I seem like the outsider?
Isis deliberately moved closer to Amos.
She wasn't the petite type of girl; her tall build plus the Gunlance on her back that made her appear even larger made it hard not to notice.
Sure enough, Amos looked over.
He smiled and said, "You used to always lack assertiveness, couldn't find what suited you. This trip out, though, you've gained quite a bit."
Amos's gaze fell on the Defender Gunlance behind Isis. "Since you've made up your mind, work hard on this path. "The training camp has very good Gunlance instructors. Remember to find time to seek their guidance."
After saying that, Amos was about to turn back to continue discussing Crimson Blade Slash with Altaïr.
Isis's eyes widened. "You're not going to teach me?"
Amos gave her a strange look. "I've never used a Gunlance, and my understanding of Tank playstyle is only superficial. How could I teach you? "You're already a mature 3★ Hunter. You should learn to move forward on your own."
Isis puffed out her cheeks. She knew Amos was speaking the truth, but often it was the truth that was most annoying.
She picked up Clawdia and left in a huff.
"What's with her?" Altaïr was somewhat surprised. This was truly the first time he'd seen Isis like this.
Amos's expression didn't change much. "It's nothing. That child is very well-behaved outside. Only when she returns home does she occasionally throw a little tantrum. She feels neglected and is a bit unhappy."
"Uh, should I—"
"No need."
Glancing at Isis's stomping departing figure and the Gunlance on her back, Amos chuckled lightly. "She's been following behind me since she was little, like a chick, going wherever I went. "Now she's finally starting to try walking towards where she wants to go. That's a good thing."
In a fit of anger, a fit that lasted only a moment, Isis, carrying Clawdia, walked out of the basement and suddenly felt unsure what to do.
Go find something to eat? But it wasn't mealtime yet, and she had just eaten quite a few snacks; she wasn't hungry.
Go find a place to train? She had just come from the training grounds.
She couldn't just go back to her room to sleep, could she? The sky was still bright.
While hesitating, Isis suddenly felt someone tugging at the hem of her clothes. Looking down, it was Clawdia.
Since Isis hadn't brought along that bothersome Felyne named Sajji, Clawdia was in a very good mood.
"Francesca has also returned to Dundorma, meow." Clawdia looked up at Isis and said, "A few days ago when I came back, I ran into her, meow. "She heard you'd be back recently too and decided to stay in Dundorma a bit longer, meow."
"Francesca is back?!" Isis couldn't contain her surprise and asked.
Francesca Sterling; she was the child of her father's close friend, only a few years older than her. The two had practically grown up together, their bond deeper than many real sisters.
The tiny bit of resentment in her heart vanished completely. Isis, with Clawdia, dashed out the door and came to another house only a few dozen meters from her own, only to find a lock on the door; there was probably no one inside.
But Isis still leaned on the windowsill, knocked, and peered inside through the window, confirming no one was there before leaving.
She couldn't exactly say she was disappointed. This house was indeed Francesca's home, but she rarely stayed here during the day; it was more likely she was at her other home.
So she jogged all the way to the front of that enormous, luxurious mansion they had passed on their way here.
This mansion was called the "Sterling Mansion" by the locals of Dundorma and was also Francesca's ancestral home.
As for why, when her family already had such a luxurious mansion, she would specifically buy another small house nearby to live in, Isis couldn't really explain.
Perhaps that's just the leisure of the wealthy.
Taking a shortcut, she familiarly climbed over the courtyard wall, crossed the garden by stepping on the lawn, and under the helpless gazes of the guards and gardeners, made her way to the front door.
Having come here often since childhood, the servants in the mansion naturally knew her. Upon learning she was looking for their young lady, they led her to the young lady's room.
"Francesca!" Excited after not seeing each other for so long, Isis forcefully pushed open the door.
BANG! A loud crash.
The luxurious double doors designed for ordinary people, under her strong push, slammed heavily against the walls on either side inside the room, leaving two shallow dents in the walls. That the door panels didn't split on the spot could only be credited to their truly excellent quality.
Inside the room, a young girl in pajamas, lying on her back on the carpet, legs still propped on the bed, one hand holding snacks, the other holding a miscellaneous book, utterly devoid of ladylike poise, stared blankly at the pushed-open door.
She remembered locking the door. How did the lock fly off?
But when she saw clearly who had pushed the door open, she immediately stopped finding it strange.
If this girl had smashed through the wall with her head to walk in, she wouldn't have been surprised, let alone a decorative lock more for show than practicality.
The butler who had led the way twitched his face.
Whether it was because of the damaged door or the young lady's uninhibited image that had nothing to do with the word "lady" was unclear.
"Isis~!" The young girl, snapping back to reality, tossed aside the miscellaneous book in her hand, rolled over, got up, opened her arms, and ran towards Isis.
"Francesca!" Isis also opened her arms with a giggle.
The two embraced fully. The next second, the young girl's joyful smile froze on her face.
Generally, when two people hug, they embrace around the chest to rib area. But she could only hug Isis's waist, while Isis hugged her head.
It felt less like a hug between peers and more like an adult hugging a child.
Just as she was thinking this, Isis half-squatted down, wrapped her arms around her waist, and lifted her entire person up. The next moment, something even more horrifying to her happened.
Isis, clad in Barroth Armor, to ensure the Francesca in her arms didn't fall, applied a bit more force with her arms.
"Owwowowowowow!" Francesca howled, slapping Isis's shoulder hard. She felt like she was about to be crushed by the latter's prominently protruding chest plate.
Realizing, Isis quickly let go.
Back on the ground, Francesca was still shaken. She lightly pressed with her hands, checking her sternum and ribs; fortunately, nothing cracked.
"Damn, thought I was gonna get squeezed to death."
"Hehehe..." Isis grinned foolishly, scratching the back of her head.
Francesca rolled her eyes in exasperation, took a few steps back, and looked her uniquely strong sister up and down.
"Haven't seen you in over a year. Have you grown taller again?"
"Not really, maybe it's because the combat boots have anti-slip spikes on the soles, so they add some height?"
"Less nonsense. How tall are you now?"
"Hmm, measured once two months ago. Seems like one hundred ninety-two centimeters."
"...Great." Francesca ground her teeth. "Our height difference has finally reached thirty centimeters. The day it exceeds forty centimeters, I'll kill myself!"
(Translated by yourtl.app)
─────────────────────────────────────────
TL NOTES — LORE SECTION
Some terms and creatures referenced in this story may be unfamiliar to readers new to the Monster Hunter universe. The following entries provide additional context.
CONCEPTS & SYSTEMS
Tank — A playstyle archetype in Monster Hunter referring to hunters who prioritize defense, endurance, and drawing monster aggression, often using weapons with built-in shields such as the Gunlance, Lance, or Sword and Shield. Amos notes this is outside his area of expertise as a Long Sword specialist.