Guildmarm Noya ground her teeth and forced herself to swallow her frustration.
Noya knew Francesca shared a deep bond with Isis and the others. Isis saw Francesca as an older sister, Nymera and several members of the Vanguard Hunting Party were close friends of hers, and Serl was a more special case still. He called it an occasional correspondence between ordinary friends, but from what Noya had observed, did those two really call that ordinary friendship?
Picking a fight with Francesca would leave Noya in the wrong and risk earning the resentment of several younger people. Even if Noya privately viewed Francesca as an egg-stealing Kulu-Ya-Ku, Noya still had to find a way to build a good relationship with Francesca.
Watching Guildmarm Noya bustle over to ask what Francesca wanted to eat, then promptly notify the kitchen to prepare it, Francesca felt a little helpless.
Accustomed to dealing with all kinds of people, Francesca was hardly one of those simple-minded Hunters. She readily detected the subtle hostility hidden within the guildmarm who usually masqueraded as a receptionist, and she could guess where it came from.
There was no real misunderstanding or conflict between them, and Francesca had never deliberately targeted Noya. In practical terms, however, Francesca had indeed poached, one by one, every talented person Noya had worked so hard to attract.
Oh, a few had not been poached yet, but there was no telling what the future held. From that perspective, Noya's hostility was only natural...
Hmm.
Francesca did not like making enemies. Fortunately, with the right approach, an "enemy" could also become a friend.
The more friends she had, the easier everything she wanted to accomplish would become.
Francesca discreetly signaled Pawdrick, who was yawning beside her. Pawdrick glanced at Guildmarm Noya, who was secretly grinding her teeth, and returned a look that said, "Leave it to me."
Immediately afterward, Francesca gave Guildmarm Noya a smile that looked faintly provocative to Noya, then led Isis and the others away to find a table and order.
"Crunch, crunch..." Once the group had walked away, Guildmarm Noya's grinding teeth became painfully audible.
"Guildmarm Noya, you really don't need to be so hostile toward the young lady, meow."
Noya turned in surprise and saw that Pawdrick, the lavishly dressed Felyne at Francesca's side with impossibly glossy fur, had somehow leaped onto the counter and was giving Noya a flamboyant tip of his hat.
"Francesca's mother is the Head Instructor of the Dundorma Training Camp. Since enrollment expanded, more than a hundred, sometimes even several hundred, students graduate from the camp every year, meow.
"Finding suitable career paths for all those outstanding young people has always been a major headache for the Head Instructor, meow.
"Ever since the young lady heard about the Metapetatto Guild's special talent recruitment policies, she has been looking for an opportunity to sit down and have a proper talk with you, meow..."
A brilliant gleam burst into Guildmarm Noya's eyes, and the grinding of her teeth stopped at once.
"Tell me more!"
—--
Meanwhile, Isis, now seated at the dining table, glanced toward the counter. "What's Pawdrick doing over there? Why hasn't he come over?"
"It's nothing. Don't mind him." Francesca pushed the menu in front of Isis and smiled. "That guy's daily expenses are even higher than mine. He has to earn his keep somehow."
Altaïr glanced toward the counter, where Guildmarm Noya was whispering with Pawdrick, then looked back at Francesca smiling beside Isis and began to understand what was happening.
Noya and Francesca were both schemers through and through. He would leave them to wear each other down.
"Oh, right, Francesca, there's something I've been curious about." After quickly ordering several Jungle specialties she had been craving for ages, Isis turned to Francesca.
Francesca put on a casual air. "What is it?"
"You spread those nicknames for Altaïr on purpose, didn't you?" Isis tilted her head. "According to the Guild Manager, from the original 'Demon Blade' to 'Devil' and finally 'Demon King,' you were the one behind all of them.
"You've said before that every step in a process is meant to serve the final outcome. So from the very beginning, you wanted to stick Altaïr with the title 'Demon King.' What for?"
Francesca's expression froze for a moment. The question had caught her somewhat off guard.
She had expected Isis to ask something like, "What is served for breakfast on the Knowledge Seeker?" This was different. Isis had clearly thought the matter through, and her question cut straight to the heart of it.
This was not going to be easy to answer...
Altaïr's gaze turned toward them as well. Naturally, he also wanted to know the answer.
As the "victim," however, Altaïr had never wanted to ask the rumor-monger directly, "Why the hell did you saddle me with this lousy nickname?" Doing so would have risked an ugly confrontation. He had not expected Isis to ask on his behalf.
Nymera and Morgan also gave Francesca curious looks.
Under everyone's gaze, Francesca wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.
When spreading Altaïr's nicknames, Francesca had made no deliberate attempt to conceal her identity; as rumors passed from person to person, their origins tended to disappear on their own.
But who could have guessed that the Guild Manager, the old man who dozed at the counter all day, would notice everything and deliberately tip off Altaïr and the others?
"Well, of course I had my reasons..." Francesca laughed dryly.
Francesca could handle Altaïr, but something about Isis's curious, earnest gaze made her feel inexplicably pressured.
After hemming and hawing for a long time, Francesca finally raised her hands in surrender. "All right. This whole thing actually began with the Hunt for Diablos the Demon King.
"The photos from that Hunt were attached to Mr. Alva's research report on Diablos the Demon King. The scenes were pretty gruesome. A lot of people aboard the Knowledge Seeker said things like, 'Aren't these Hunters the real demon kings?'
"That's when I thought, huh, that actually has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
"Was that the only reason?" Isis blinked. Knowing Francesca, the explanation was rather flimsy, certainly not enough to justify all the effort she had put into spreading the nickname.
It was not "interesting" enough.
"Uh, well, the original 'Demon Blade' wasn't my doing, but since none of the nicknames were particularly positive anyway, I thought 'Demon King' had much more flair, right?"
Then Francesca lowered her head, spoke faster, and muttered, "And don't you think 'Demon King' pairs perfectly with 'Hero'? The 'Demon King' carries off the daughter of the 'Hero,' then the Hero tracks him down and beats him to a pulp. Something like that..."
Altaïr fell silent.
The others stared at Francesca in speechless disbelief.
That last part. That was definitely the real reason!
"Oh, don't take it so seriously. Until a nickname becomes a proper 'title,' it can change at any time, you know." Francesca tried to justify her mischief.
"My mom and dad's old nicknames were both terrible, but the titles they earned later were pretty imposing, weren't they?"
Altaïr sighed. "Just don't keep pushing this nickname in the future."
"I promise I won't! I happened to be bored while I was on break, so I went to the People's Tavern and chatted with people. Before I knew it, things just..." Francesca hurriedly raised a hand as if swearing an oath.
After a moment's thought, she added meekly, "But I can't really say what might happen later, you know, with public opinion and all..."
"Whatever..." Altaïr looked as though he had given up entirely.
"Francesca." Isis took Francesca's hand, her expression grave. "If you ever get another sudden urge to come up with a nickname for me, please talk to me first, okay? I'm begging you. I don't want anything that sounds too awful."
"Deal!" Francesca agreed readily.
Once Francesca confirmed that Altaïr, the "victim," was not actually that bothered, her love of mischief resurfaced.
"Isis, you're so strong. How about 'Hercules'? 'Hercules Isis' has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Or, for something even more imposing, 'Ultra Woman'!"
Isis fell silent.
Isis tightened her grip on Francesca's small hand. For the first time in all the years they had known each other, Isis used violence against Francesca.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! I was kidding! I swear I was kidding!" Francesca cried.
* * *
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