The food and drinks at the People's Tavern were as delicious as ever.
After nearly a full year on Tidal Island, the advance team had no shortage of supplies, so going hungry had never been a concern. The Felyne Chefs also worked hard to provide balanced nutrition and better-than-average meals, but the variety and refinement of their cooking simply could not compare to this place.
Altaïr and the other two ate heartily. Even Nymera, whose thoughts were in turmoil, set her worries aside for the moment and picked up her knife and fork.
Before long, Isis and Francesca arrived.
Isis was now a High Rank Hunter herself. No longer would she have to awkwardly ask Amos for permission whenever she wanted to try an expensive dish, only to be scolded for being too picky. The realization filled her with excitement.
She had plenty of money in her pocket now, and her status as a High Rank Hunter gave her access to the Guild Hall tavern's entire menu. She hurried to the counter and ordered a random assortment of dishes.
She had already tried most of the normal-looking options, leaving mainly the exotic ones. Exotic or not, she intended to taste them all!
A server brought out a Toxic Kumori.
A server brought out a clump of Nibelsnarf throat meat.
When a young Khezu roasted to a golden brown was placed on the table, everyone except Isis silently set down their utensils. Its malformed, leech-like mouth was lined with tiny fangs, and its sticky skin continued to ooze a gluey fluid even after cooking. Isis alone kept her head down and devoured it.
Nymera stared at its sucker-like mouth for several seconds, unpleasant memories resurfacing in her mind. She shuddered, forced a strained smile, and rose to her feet.
"I have eaten my fill. I must go pay my respects at the Princess's residence. My mother repeatedly warned me not to neglect proper etiquette once I arrived in Dundorma."
The willful Princess was very close to her adoptive parents, so Nymera could hardly come to Dundorma without visiting them. Besides, more and more exotic dishes were appearing on the table, and the mere sight of them made her skin crawl.
Not long after Nymera left, Morgan made his own excuse, claiming he had never properly explored Dundorma and wanted to look around.
Altaïr and Isis would be visiting their elders together later, so Morgan had no reason to join them. More importantly, Miss Sterling had discreetly signaled for him to leave.
Once Morgan was gone as well, Altaïr immediately felt someone's gaze settle on him.
He instinctively looked up and met Francesca's solemn stare. Her appraising eyes swept over him from head to toe.
For a moment, Altaïr had the absurd impression that he might not be wearing any clothes. "Senior Francesca? Is something wrong?"
Francesca did not answer. She merely narrowed her eyes and stared at him even more intently.
"You're taking forever, meow. Why not just ask him, meow?" Pawdrick, seated beside Francesca, licked one paw and smoothed down his fur. "Young Altaïr, are you and Isis..."
Before he could finish, Isis, who had been devouring her Toxic Kumori, shot out a hand and slammed the back of Pawdrick's head against the table.
With a dull thump, Pawdrick's forehead struck the tabletop and bounced back up. A large lump swelled on his brow, his eyes rolled back, and he promptly fainted.
Altaïr: "?"
Was that really any way to treat the hunting partner of the woman she considered her older sister, who was also her own hunting partner's elder brother?
Francesca showed no concern whatsoever for Pawdrick's plight. She casually swept him under the table and continued staring at Altaïr for a long while.
She desperately wanted to demand, "When are you two finally going to make it official?!" But in the end, she forced herself to hold back.
They were better off figuring these things out for themselves.
But when Francesca remembered what Isis had asked her, she could not help grinding her teeth. A menacing smile spread across her face. "Kid, you have no idea how lucky you are to still be alive, do you? One letter from me, and you'll be chopped into fine mincemeat!"
Altaïr froze for a moment, then his mind began racing.
There had to be a reason Senior Francesca was suddenly so furious with him. She had not acted this way when they first met outside the Elder Hall.
If he had to guess, Isis must have told her something while they were alone earlier.
He glanced at Isis. Her face was almost completely buried in her plate, making her expression impossible to read.
What exactly had Isis told her?
Pawdrick had begun to ask a question before Isis knocked him out. He had said, "Are you and Isis..."
Had Altaïr done anything unusual with Isis lately?
Well, they had spent two days lying in the same bed.
If that was what this was about, then Senior Francesca's behavior made perfect sense. She was like an older sister to Isis, after all.
But how had Isis known what happened? She had not been awake then, had she?
Wait. Given her excellent physical condition, it would not have been strange for her to wake before him, or for the noise he made getting out of bed to rouse her.
So you were pretending to be asleep...
Altaïr was momentarily at a loss for words.
He wanted to explain that they had both been badly injured, that exhaustion and mental strain had left them unconscious, and that someone else had carried them to the bed as patients.
But reason told him not to say any of that, unless he wanted Senior Francesca to look at him as though he were a cockroach.
Isis had probably explained all of this already, but from Francesca's perspective...
How it happened was not the only thing that mattered. The simple fact that "my little sister spent two days sharing a bed with a man she wasn't in a relationship with" was enough to make anyone furious.
"Hmm..." Altaïr mulled over everything he had pieced together in those few seconds.
To be honest, Senior Francesca's anger did not bother him much. He had done nothing wrong, after all.
What mattered to him was how Isis felt.
He was certain that he was attracted to Isis as a woman. She was clearly fond of him too, but he could not tell what kind of affection it was.
Was it the affection she felt for a friend and rival? A comrade and partner? Or...?
He had been unwilling to risk destroying the harmonious relationship they already shared.
But now, he had changed his mind.
If Isis regarded him only as a friend, rival, and partner, then two injured patients sharing a hospital bed for two days would not have bothered someone as easygoing as her.
The fact that she had pretended to be asleep, gone to Francesca for advice, and knocked Pawdrick unconscious probably meant that she cared about him in another way too.
If that was true, he had no intention of remaining vague and preserving their so-called "pure partnership."
When her warning drew no response, Francesca glared at Altaïr.
Altaïr ignored her furious stare and looked at Isis again.
How should he move beyond their current relationship? Should he express his feelings through small, intimate gestures and let her gradually realize what he meant? Or should he slowly change the way they interacted until it felt natural?
That probably would not work. Given how dense she was, she would never figure it out. She would keep asking other people for advice and make the situation increasingly complicated.
It would be better to speak plainly.
He stared at Isis for a while. Feeling his gaze, she picked up the roasted young Khezu and raised it in front of her face to hide behind it.
He must have figured out that I was pretending to be asleep!
Isis began to panic.
I never should have told Francesca!
"Isis," Altaïr suddenly said.
Trying to hide her panic, Isis clamped her teeth around the young Khezu's head and looked up.
"Mmph?"
Altaïr stared at the Khezu head clenched between Isis's teeth, momentarily speechless. He had no idea what expression he should be making.
The mood was hardly ideal, but now that he had made up his mind, he was not about to back down because of that.
Gathering his courage, Altaïr tried to keep his voice steady.
"Will you be my girlfriend?"
The Khezu head fell from Isis's mouth.