Isis did not hesitate. She grabbed Altaïr and Morgan and hurried straight off the Knowledge Seeker.
The Knowledge Seeker was not due to depart for several days. Even if it had been ready to set sail that very moment, Isis would still have considered Francesca's future more important.
"Should we give the Vanguard Hunting Party a heads-up?" On the way to the Hunter Training Camp to find Lady Gael, Isis suddenly stopped. "Serl is their captain, after all. Maybe they can help too?"
"No need to rush, meow." Pawdrick stopped her. "We don't know anything for certain yet. Don't tell them about this just yet, meow.
What if that young woman Balina also has feelings for Serl, meow? Who knows whether Buck and Brandley would side with her or Francesca? That would make things complicated, meow!"
"Probably not, right? Balina is two years younger than we are, so there's a pretty big age gap between her and Serl, isn't there?" Despite her words, Isis sounded uncertain.
"Who can say, meow? A handsome, dependable, and powerful senior can be very attractive to a young woman, meow. Seven or eight years isn't much of an age gap, meow."
Altaïr glanced sideways at Pawdrick. Why did he seem even more worked up than before?
"If that's really the case, then I'll feel terrible for little Balina, but I'll still support Francesca unconditionally!" Isis declared, quickening her pace.
"Don't be so quick to invent a rival for her," Altaïr reminded her helplessly. "At least while we were in Metapetatto, we didn't see any sign of that, did we?
That young woman's mind is filled with nothing but swinging her Hammer and restoring her family's forge..."
—--
The Royal Academy's dockyard and the Hunter Training Camp were both on the outskirts of Dundorma. They were not far apart, and at a Hunter's pace, the group soon reached the training camp's gates.
Without even stopping to show the guards her identification, Isis charged straight inside.
The guards at the Hunter Training Camp were perceptive enough to recognize the quality of the group's armor. Assuming there was some kind of emergency, they did not pursue or try to stop them.
Having graduated from this very training camp, Isis knew the grounds like the back of her hand. She circled past the Training Area, confirmed that Gael was not there, and headed straight for the Head Instructor's office.
The office door was closed but unlocked. In her agitation, Isis grabbed the doorknob, twisted, and shoved so hard that the entire door came away in her hands.
Inside, Gael sat with her chair tilted back and both legs propped on her desk, flipping through a report. She stared blankly toward the doorway.
What's going on? Why is my door down?
Isis awkwardly propped the door beside its frame and blurted out before Gael could lose her temper, "Aunt Gael!
Something's happened to Francesca!"
Gael's expression instantly darkened. "What happened? Explain clearly."
Altaïr knew that Isis tended to become incoherent when flustered. To prevent any misunderstanding, he pulled her back and explained her concerns and the current situation from beginning to end on her behalf.
Gael's expression shifted through a bewildering array of emotions.
Her initial grim severity gave way to a long sigh of relief, followed by surprise, contemplation, tension, bemusement, and finally an eagerness to join the fray.
"Good heavens, why didn't you tell me about something this interesting sooner?" Gael tossed the report onto her desk and stood. "I've finished all the training I had to lead today, so I'm off the clock!
Where are Francesca and that young man? Take me to them, quickly!"
Altaïr felt from the bottom of his heart that Isis had made a mistake by coming to Gael for advice.
Knowing her, she might very well run all the way to Serl, throw an arm around his neck, and demand, "Hey, boy! Do you like my daughter or not? Give me a straight answer!"
Even if the two of them genuinely had feelings for each other, she could easily ruin everything.
"Ahem, Lady Gael, we need to approach this one step at a time," Altaïr cautioned. "Both of them are very perceptive. If we're too obvious, it might backfire."
"Is it really that complicated? Can't I just get a few strong drinks into him and ask him directly?"
Altaïr stared at her in silence.
All right, that's a little better than I expected. At least she knows to pour a few drinks first.
Just as Altaïr began to worry that he would not be able to rein in this whirlwind of a woman, Pawdrick spoke up. "Of all the men around Francesca's age whom she has met over the years, Serl is the only one with whom a romance might develop, meow.
You wouldn't want her to end up like her aunt, would you, meow?"
Gael froze, then shuddered. "You're right. We need to handle this carefully.
Serl, was it? I vaguely remember him. He's Kio and Nora's son. His mother was such a great beauty, with her blond hair, big eyes, and fair skin...
Ahem, the young man takes after his mother. His record is impeccable too, reaching High Rank while still in his twenties. We can't afford to scare away such a promising candidate.
Damn it, if you hadn't brought it up, I'd almost have forgotten that Francesca turns twenty-five this year. If she misses this chance, who the hell knows when she'll meet another suitable match?
So what do you think we should do?"
Altaïr could only sigh inwardly. Isis had hoped to consult someone experienced, but Gael's entire plan was to get Serl drunk. She was less an adviser than a spectator eager to stir things up.
"Must I be the one to come up with a plan, meow?" Pawdrick leaped onto the desk and flicked his mane. "Here's my suggestion, meow. Lady Gael, you take the lead and tell Francesca that you want to introduce her to a potential match. Then we use the opportunity to observe how she and Serl react, meow.
Don't dismiss it as clichéd. Clichéd methods often work best, meow. A flash of anxiety or jealousy is impossible to hide, meow.
If Francesca instinctively glances at Serl, even if her eyes move only slightly in his direction, that means there's a chance, meow!"
Before Altaïr or Isis could respond, Gael waved the idea away. "That won't work. I promised her I'd never set her up on a blind date, and my word is my bond."
"I meant you should only pretend to say that, meow–"
"Pretending won't work either. She knows I would never do that. If I suddenly brought it up, she'd immediately realize something was wrong."
Pawdrick fell silent for two seconds, then sighed. "That's true, meow. I guess we'll have to try a different angle, meow.
"Aren't you quite close to Serl's parents, meow? Tell them that, as an elder, you have an absolutely stunning woman you want to introduce to him, meow."
Gael grabbed Pawdrick by the cheeks and hoisted him into the air. "Is that seriously the only trick you know, dumbass?"
Pawdrick kicked and struggled. "But it really works, meow! Trust me, meow! Whether you tell them afterward that it was a joke or make up some other lie to smooth things over, none of that matters, meow!
It's only that first split-second reaction we need. One moment is enough to reveal their true feelings, meow!"
"Even if you have a point, where the hell am I supposed to find an age-appropriate knockout on such short notice...?"
As she spoke, her gaze and Pawdrick's simultaneously landed on Morgan, who stood behind Altaïr and Isis.
Morgan had no interest in this kind of topic and had not said a word the entire time. As their teammate, however, he had not been left behind. Unable to find a good moment to excuse himself, he had followed them like a shadow.
Morgan stared at the approaching human-and-Felyne pair, their eyes practically sparkling, a question written all over his face.
In truth, he had been lost in thought the whole time, considering ways to improve his skills, and had barely listened to their conversation.
After hearing Pawdrick's explanation, his expression instantly darkened. "I'm a man."
"You may be a man, but even I've rarely seen a face as striking as yours, meow! And that's without makeup. With the right makeup, you'd be absolutely stunning, meow!"
"Francesca knows who I am!"
"That's even less of a concern, meow! Don't underestimate the power of cosmetics. A skilled stylist could make you over so thoroughly that your own mother wouldn't recognize you, meow!
Besides, we don't need you to keep up the act for long. You don't even need to open your mouth. Just show your face and let us see their immediate reaction. That's all, meow!"
Gael bared her teeth in a grin and gave him a thumbs-up. "My sister... I mean, Francesca's grandmother, is the finest stylist in Dundorma. With her doing your makeover, she could send you straight to the king's bed without any trouble!"
Altaïr and Isis exchanged glances, both sensing that the pair's objective had subtly shifted somewhere along the way.
Morgan took a deep breath. "I refuse. I've said this many times. I wear female armor solely because of sizing issues. I have no interest whatsoever in cross-dressing. Please find someone else."
"Don't refuse so quickly." Gael sidled up to Morgan with a smirk and began circling him.
"Let's see. That weapon is a Shen Gaoren Cannon, isn't it? So you're a Heavy Bowgun user. And that armor is from a Barioth set?
I'm good at mixing sets, but I've never seen anyone combine male and female pieces from the same set before. You learn something new every day... Ahem, anyway, that's not important.
You're not a High Rank Hunter. Every Hunter must come to headquarters to register upon reaching High Rank, and I've seen every one of them. You weren't among them. Yet you have High Rank armor and weapons, and your armor is quite new. You're a 5★ Hunter preparing to advance to High Rank soon, correct?"
Morgan frowned. "And what if I am?"
Gael circled back in front of him, rubbing her hands together like an annoying fly. "I'm the High Rank Gunner known as 'Swiftstrike Gael.' My primary weapon may be the Light Bowgun, but I'm pretty damn good with the Heavy Bowgun too. I lead the Crag Ammo Heavy Bowgun Squad under the direct authority of Guild headquarters.
How about I teach you a few things in my spare time? I guarantee you'll advance to High Rank without a hitch!"
"If that's still not tempting enough, my husband is the 'Supernova' currently guarding the New World. You're a Heavy Bowgun user, so there's no way you haven't heard of him. He's widely considered the greatest Heavy Bowgun user alive today, after all.
I could even let you read his shooting insights, technique notes, and recipes for crafting special Bowgun Ammo.
You don't need to say a word. Just put on some makeup, change your clothes, and show your face in front of those two. A few seconds of your time, and everything I just offered will be yours..."
Gael's words echoed in Morgan's ears like a demon's whisper.
After a long silence, the young Gunner, desperate to improve his skills, forced a humiliated answer through gritted teeth.
"D... deal..."