The mustachioed Guild Master led the Elder away, though no one knew whether they were catching up or discussing the details.
Under the bathhouse owner's disapproving gaze, Altaïr used four or five times as much water as the other guests, scrubbing himself thoroughly and meticulously cleaning the dried blood from his armor and weapon.
After paying several times the usual bathing fee, Altaïr took his leave of the bathhouse owner, whose irritation had turned to delight. Refreshed, he headed alone to the Guild Hall.
It was already nearing lunchtime, and the Guild Hall tavern was bustling. Altaïr was about to head toward the meeting room when he suddenly heard someone calling his name.
"Altaïr! Over here! Over here!"
Altaïr instinctively turned his head and, sure enough, saw that familiar figure. Isis was standing beside a table, waving vigorously at him.
Nymera and Sajji were there too, while Lambert sat with her chin on the table, heavy dark circles under her eyes and an utterly listless expression on her face.
To rack up 1★ quests as efficiently as possible, she had not slept for two days. She had wanted to go straight back and collapse into bed, but someone who insisted on regular meals had forced her to come along.
Altaïr did not head over. He merely raised his chin and called out, "I've got something to do. You guys eat first," then continued toward the meeting room, turned a corner, and disappeared from sight.
Isis looked at Nymera, somewhat stunned. "Why didn't he tell us he was back? Isn't he going to eat? Where is he going?"
Faced with Isis's rapid-fire questions, Nymera was equally puzzled.
Like Isis, she was visiting Loc Lac for the first time. She had spent the previous few days wandering around the city and had hardly visited the Guild Hall, so she did not know where Altaïr was going either.
Fortunately, they had a local Felyne with them: Sajji. He glanced at the corner where Altaïr had vanished. "That's the office area, meow. The Guild Master's office, the meeting rooms, and things like that are all over there, meow. He probably has some important business, meow."
"Oh, okay." Isis sat back down. After two seconds of silence, she looked up. "So, should we start eating?"
"Let's eat, meow. I'll order. I know what's good here, meow!"
—--
While Sajji went to get the menu from the Guild receptionist, Altaïr entered the meeting room.
The mustachioed Guild Master, the Nomad Elder, and Lady Aisha were already there. A lean, middle-aged Hunter was also sitting at the table with his arms crossed and his eyes closed.
Altaïr knew this man: Adan, a 7★ Bow user and one of Loc Lac's most formidable Hunters.
Altaïr greeted everyone politely. The Bow user opened his eyes and gave him a friendly nod.
They waited in the meeting room for about a quarter of an hour before another high-rank Hunter arrived.
The man was tall and burly, with a scarred, completely bald scalp, yet his cheeks were buried beneath an astonishingly thick grizzled beard, as if his hair and beard had somehow grown in reverse.
With that ferocious face and his savage-looking dark green armor, he had probably frightened countless children over the course of his life.
Altaïr knew this man well. Quite well, in fact.
He knew that, despite looking like a villain, this nearly sixty-year-old Hunter was actually a remarkably dependable man and a respected senior.
In his younger days, he had been a member of the Loc Lac Rangers and had even led them for a time. Even now, he occasionally visited the Rangers' base to look around and offer the newcomers a few pointers.
Altaïr had received his guidance on more than one occasion, so he stood and bowed the moment the other man entered the meeting room.
"Mr. Omar, it's been a long time."
Omar, a Switch Axe user, widened his eyes as he took in Altaïr's armor and weapon. "Well, if it isn't Altaïr! You've made impressive progress over the past few years, ha! That's what I'd expect from one of our Rangers!
And how many times have I told you not to call me 'mister'? Just call me Old Captain!"
Before the words had even left his mouth, an even louder voice thundered from outside the meeting room. "Omar, you brat, who do you think you're showing off to? Old Captain, hah!"
Marydan strode in wearing casual clothes, a mocking grin on her face.
Omar's mouth twitched. "Well, of course I wouldn't dare call myself that in front of you, Big Sis. By the way, what in the world is that getup? A skirt?"
Marydan looked down at the oversized gauze skirt, which seemed ready to burst apart over her muscles, and a vein bulged at her temple.
She clenched her cantaloupe-sized fist and grinned viciously. "It's been twenty years since I last beat you up, brat. Itching for another?"
Just as a fight seemed about to break out, the mustachioed Guild Master began to intervene, but another person trotted in.
This was a relatively young female Charge Blade user, around thirty years old. Altaïr did not know her; she was probably a rising star who had been promoted to High Rank within the past couple of years.
"Sorry, sorry, I'm late... Whoa! Senior Marydan is here too!" The Charge Blade user was cheerful and naturally outgoing. After greeting all the seniors, her surprised gaze settled on Altaïr.
"There's actually someone younger than me at a High Rank Hunter meeting? Am I no longer the youngest high-rank Hunter in Loc Lac?"
Altaïr was about to explain that he was only 4★ when he heard the mustachioed Guild Master chuckle. "You still are, though probably not for more than another couple of years.
Allow me to introduce Loc Lac's rising star, Altaïr! A 5★ hunter who is still a few months shy of turning twenty, hahahaha!"
Altaïr stared at him in shock. "Huh? But... but I should only be 4–"
"4★, my foot! Didn't you just complete the Urgent Quest 'Deal with the Tigrex Attacking the Nomad Caravan' and get promoted to 5★?"
With that, the mustachioed Guild Master tossed a quest form at him. "You left in such a hurry that you forgot the form at the counter. Don't be so careless next time!"
Altaïr instinctively caught the form and looked it over.
—--
Hunting Quest (Urgent Quest): Desert Assailant (★★★★★). Quest Objective: Hunt one Tigrex.
Quest Location: Great Desert. Time Limit: 7 days.
Reward Money: 0z. Monsters that may appear: Genprey, Gendrome.
Nomad Elder: Ah! Our caravan has been attacked! Please save us!
—--
He blinked at the form.
Altaïr looked up, baffled, and met the Guild Master's knowing gaze.
It suddenly dawned on him that although hunting the Tigrex on the spot to protect civilians, without carving any materials, did not count as poaching,
Guild regulations still required an investigation and a stack of reports.
The ink on the quest form was barely dry. It had clearly just been written, and it would spare him all that trouble.
A merchant by trade, the mustachioed Guild Master was as "flexible" in his methods as ever. Just as gratitude and admiration began to surface in Altaïr's eyes, the mustachioed Guild Master sprang onto the table and rambled, "That girl Isis is your companion, right? She's from Dundorma, isn't she? A few years ago, I heard Dundorma had produced a prodigy who became an official hunter at just sixteen, advanced to 2★ that same year, and then reached 3★ right after. That's her, isn't it? Two days ago, she came to the Guild Hall to ask about Rank-Up Quests that might suit your group. If she got promoted first, wouldn't that old codger in Dundorma have one over on us again? Dammit, as if I'd let that happen! But it all worked out. You hunted a Tigrex and advanced to 5★ first. I'm going to write that old codger a letter and gloat the moment we're done here, hahahaha!"
"Wooo!" The Charge Blade user, whose name Altaïr still did not know, pumped her fists and cheered alongside the Guild Master.
Altaïr was speechless.
Marydan offered a couple of perfunctory claps as well. "The little guy reaching 5★ is certainly cause for celebration, but you old schemer, you didn't call us all back in such a hurry just for that, did you?
Wasn't this supposed to be about an emergency?"
Adan and Omar looked toward him as well.
"Ahem, there is an important matter." The mustachioed Guild Master's expression turned serious. He sat back down and pushed the photographs Altaïr had handed him earlier across the table.
"Altaïr took these after hunting the Tigrex. He says that, judging by how the wounds healed, they were likely inflicted not long ago. What do you make of them?"
Marydan picked up one photo, glanced at it, and slapped it back onto the table.
"No doubt about it. Those claw marks were left by the Grimclaw Tigrex."
(Translated by yourtl.app)