With Altaïr and Ferdie taking turns to soothe her, Gael somehow managed not to kick Lambert straight off the cart.
But that didn't stop her grumbling the whole way, things like "Each generation really is worse than the last, needing a cart for this little distance," or "No stamina to run, and you still want to be a Hunter?" and "I'm older than your mother, and I can still cover two hundred kilometers a day!"
Lambert plugged her ears with her fingers and played deaf, rolling her eyes until there was more white than black.
Just over an hour later, the Aptonoth cart the four of them were riding finally drew near the target hunting grounds.
Lambert, whose head was spinning from all the lecturing, scrambled off the cart in a fluster, yelled, "I'll go prep the camp first!" and bolted off in the blink of an eye.
"Well, she can run pretty fast when she wants to," Gael huffed coldly, turning her gaze to the other young person still in the cart. "You youngsters just want to save every bit of effort.
"A low-star assignment barely pays a few coins, and renting a cart's so expensive. A round trip gobbles up most of the reward.
"Back in our day, as long as the distance could be covered on foot within a few days, we'd never even consider spending money on renting a cart. At most, we'd find a merchant caravan heading the same way and hitch a ride."
Altaïr awkwardly averted his eyes. Normally, they didn't take carts to the hunting grounds. They mostly used Airships. Sure, it cost more, but it was fast and convenient both ways. Factor in the time cost, and it wasn't really a loss.
Ferdie also sank into reminiscence beside him. "That's right. Back then, we wanted to save every last z, hoarding it all for crafting gear.
"Even eating at the Guild Hall, we could only bear to order the cheapest set meals."
Altaïr lowered his head and stared at the floor.
Isis usually ordered by the page. They genuinely hadn't ever felt much need to actively save. A 4★ Hunter's income was already quite decent; as long as you didn't spend wildly, there was always more than enough for food and drink.
If they ever ran short when planning a gear set, doing a couple of assignments and selling some materials would always make up the difference.
Watching Altaïr stay silent, head hung as if trying to vanish into thin air, the two old-timers clicked their tongues in unison.
Less than two minutes after Lambert fled the cart, Gael called for the driver to stop, paid the rest of the fare, and told him he could head back.
The driver stared dazedly at the fare in his hand, enough for four people round trip. "No need to wait for you all?"
"Go on, get going. We'll make our own arrangements to get back." Gael waved him off, rushing him to leave.
I just want to see that miserable look on your face when you finish your Hunt and plan to take the cart home, only to find it's long gone!
Altaïr didn't really mind the extra ten-plus kilometers on foot. With a Hunter's pace, they might even make it faster than the cart.
It was just... well, he sort of understood why Senior Francesca had described her mother as "that woman who goes a little nuts every now and then."
Watching the driver disappear back down the road, Gael clapped her hands. "Right, now we head up to that hillside.
"From there, we can overlook the camp. Once she leaves, she'll most likely head into the woods to the west. We'll follow that river valley there and flank her from the side."
Ferdie smiled. "Seems you know the terrain around here pretty well."
"Obviously."
Gael chambered a round into her Light Bowgun, then slung it back over her shoulder. "I proctor at least thirty trainees a year, and at least half the time it's in this hunting ground.
"Familiar? I could lie on the ground, roll blindfolded, and still end up right in front of a candidate. You believe that?"
Altaïr looked a little surprised, not because of the "roll blindfolded" remark. "So... this hunting ground sees dozens, maybe a hundred candidates taking their exams every year?
"And the local Velociprey packs haven't been hunted to extinction?"
"Well, well. Rare to see a kid think that far ahead." Gael shot Altaïr a glance.
"Just like you figured, the surrounding mountain forest has long been emptied out. When it's time to run the exam, we lure some Velociprey into the area.
"In the old days, candidates getting killed by a Velocidrome or a Bulldrome or whatever happened a few times every year. Hardly ever now.
"How should I put it... sure, hardship builds you up, but you'll have plenty of chances to stare death in the face later on. Getting stonewalled right at your own doorstep would be too great a shame."
Altaïr nodded in understanding.
Following Gael, the three of them reached the top of a hillside slope.
From here, they could indeed overlook the entire Hunter's Camp hundreds of meters away. With a spyglass, they could see clearly what everyone inside the camp was doing.
Just like now, Altaïr could make out with perfect clarity that the Hunter girl named Lambert was inspecting her weapon.
He had to admit that Lambert might have a peculiar temperament, but she was dead serious when it came to proper business. Weapon, Armor, supplies, even the Sharpness of her Carving Knife... she checked every single item meticulously. The whole preparation process was practically textbook.
"Wouldn't have guessed. I thought she'd cut corners for sure," Altaïr said, nodding.
"Mm-hmm. Enter camp, inspect equipment, check." Gael had produced a clipboard at some point and ticked a box on the form.
Curious, Altaïr lowered his spyglass for a moment. "Theoretically, as long as she completes the Hunt target, she passes the exam and gets promoted, right? Do fine details like this actually affect the final result?"
"They don't." Gael raised her spyglass again. "But if anyone skips a crucial step, I'll publicly execute them in front of all the trainees, and flay them alive."
Altaïr: "..."
Beside them, Ferdie smiled. "Even an ordinary musician checks their instrument and tunes it over and over before a performance, let alone a Hunt where life itself is on the line.
"That girl isn't as bad as you two think. She just has a more artistic disposition than other Hunters."
"Mm-hmm, you sound just like her parents." Gael pinched her voice, mimicking Lambert's father's tone. "'Sure, the girl's listless and lazy and sharp-tongued and neurotic... but all in all, she's a good kid.'"
Faced with Gael's sarcasm, Ferdie looked a little helpless, but he didn't argue. "Just keep watching. You'll see what makes her shine soon enough."
Before his words had even faded, Lambert, still under all three of their spyglasses, suddenly leapt onto the item box. Like a woman possessed, she began blasting and hammering away at her Hunting Horn while thrashing her head back and forth, letting out a series of hoarse, unhinged shrieks.
"YI-YA-HA!!!"
"...?" Gael and Altaïr turned in unison toward Ferdie.
Ferdie's expression stiffened for a split second, but immediately after, his face lit up with dawning realization and excitement. "Crimson Melody, it's the Valiant March! She's using music to stimulate her physical abilities!
"Ah! That heavy, powerful vibrato, that piercing yet perfectly steady portamento. Even though it's just the most ordinary Iron Horn, she truly is an unprecedented genius!"
Gael turned to Altaïr and whispered, "Do you think he's serious, or is he spouting nonsense?"
"I think he's serious." Altaïr pinched the corner of his eye. "Though the playing style is a bit... unique, don't you find that melody kind of rousing? My heartbeat even quickened a little.
"To feel some effect from this far away, this girl really is something else."
"Is the problem... me?" Gael looked utterly skeptical. "Why do I just want to blast her with a cannon so the world can be quiet for a moment?"
"Twang–"
After a sharp metallic screech that sliced at the eardrums, Lambert pressed the metal strings, and the music came to an abrupt halt.
She jerked her head back forcefully, gathering her loose hair behind her, then hopped off the item box, slung the Hunting Horn onto her back, and strode out of the camp.
"Move, move! She's probably heading into the woods! We'll circle around through the riverbed!" Gael called to Altaïr and dragged the still somewhat enraptured Ferdie along with her. The three of them dashed down the slope and began their detour.
They hadn't run more than a few hundred meters before another clattering, clamorous racket echoed from the distance.
"You've gotta be kidding me?! Didn't she just apply the blessing? Why is she playing again?!" Gael, fuming, charged up another slope, raised her scope, and peered in the direction of the sound.
Lambert hadn't entered the forest to begin her search as Gael had anticipated. Instead, she had stopped a hundred or two hundred meters short of the treeline, standing her Hunting Horn upright and playing with abandon, head bobbing and swaying.
Compared to the earlier Valiant March, this sound was even more grating, aggravating to the point of agitation.
"It's the Infernal Melody!" Ferdie, the only one who didn't find the racket unbearable, cried out excitedly.
Veins bulged at Gael's temples. "I feel like punching someone. What's the deal? Instead of heading into the woods to track the target, what the hell is she making all this damn noise for?"
Altaïr was also getting a headache from the music, but he felt like he might be starting to connect with that lunatic girl's train of thought.
"You want to hit someone just listening to it. Monsters will only get more riled up. She's trying to draw the target out of the forest and deal with it in open ground?"
P.S. By the way, the Hunting Horn is a combination percussion, wind, and string instrument. As for how that works, don't ask. Just chalk it up to Monster Hunter tech.
(Translated by yourtl.app)