Chapter 6 - New World Order


Jeremiah

Devaun Smith had always perplexed Jeremiah. There he sat, hammering away at the red-hot hilt of Jeremiah's weapon seemingly unfazed by the heat of the furnace behind him. The flames flickered and danced, occasionally reaching around and tickling the Smith Master's back. The embers would roll down the old man's hefty frame and rest on the charred concrete floor of Astera Ironworks. The Smith Master had spent a lifetime in a forge; this was his element.

Jeremiah sat across a crude metal counter. It had been at least 3 hours since Jeremiah requested his hunting horn to be tuned. He had expected the Smith Master to bend something back into place to properly tune the instrument. Much to Jeremiah's dismay, the Smith Master removed piece after piece, eventually deciding to remold the hunting horn entirely.

"Should I come back?" Jeremiah asked with a hint of impatience edging into his voice.

The Smith Master made a dog-like grumble and shifted his eyes to Jeremiah. Then he picked up another set of tongs to continue his work.

"He's going to take a while, Jeremiah," a food-filled voice said.

Jeremiah sat up and looked at the thin, coal covered man walking out from behind the furnace. He had nearly finished half the basket of honeyfruit Jeremiah brought as a gift for the Smith Master. Jeremiah couldn't help but look at the man's prosthetic hand. The metal fingers jerked and bent the handle of the honeyfruit basket as Jeremiah's friend, called "Hammer hand" by most people after a fairly one-sided bar fight, set the basket on a metal counter in front of the workshop. Jeremiah preferred to use his real name.

"Thorin, there's no way it's taking this long to fix up my hunting horn. Is he going to take all day?" Jeremiah asked

"All day? Lad, you best get a move on. This is going to take all week. If you're not happy, you can waltz right down the street to those highbrow smithys. They'd be done in 30 minutes… tops," Thorin replied. The Smith Master made another odd sound in agreement.

"C'mon, Thorin. I brought you some pretty rare sweets. Did you know how hard that is to get?"

"Eh, don't like fruit much. If ya just used a normal weapon like your lady friend, he'd be done with it by now," Thorin said, licking the juice off one of his metal fingers. Mei and Jeremiah had come together, but Mei had already left with her upgraded bowgun about an hour ago.

"Besides," Thorin said, "This'll only make up for the black eye one of you hunters gave me last weekend. My pa' was ready to give the 7th hell after he saw me walkin' back."

Jeremiah winced, " I don't think something like that will ever happen again."

"You kidding!? Have you been in the town plaza since then? It's filled with foreigners and money-men trying to stir the pot," Thorin leaned over the counter, "You better care for yourself, ya hear me?"

"Will should've passed. But the people in that crowd shouldn't have gotten hysterical when he didn't"

"Will got his ass beat by a wee-little Nargacuga. I hope the rest of you A-listers aint as shite as him," Thorin said.

Jeremiah stared daggers in response. "Watch yourself, Thorin. The research commission has the best of the best, Will included. In fact, we're going to take back Seliana after the Summer fes-."

A set of red-hot tongs and a hammer clattered on the floor as the Smith Master clutched his ears and backing away from the furnace. Tears and snot dripped down the Smith Masters face as he fell down, lying on the floor and hyperventilating.

"Ah, Jeremiah, ya said that place," said Thorin. As Jeremiah began walking to help the Smith Master up, Thorin put a hand up, "Let me fix him. Again. Ya got some hunter business to deal with, right?

Realizing he had done enough, Jeremiah briskly apologized and made his way past the cotton curtain marking the entrance of Astera Ironworks. The dim torchlit forge opened into bright, open hunter's district of Astera. Dozens of shops clamored with merchants' wild claims about their charms, armor, and decorations. Smoke petered out of the chimney of neighboring Smithys as they hammered away for the multitude of weapon requests from new and old hunters. Families living above the shops hung colorful tapestries out to dry in the warm spring sun as dozens of shops below were filled with crowds of aspiring hunters and overzealous laypeople.

After being swarmed by dozens of fans the last time he visited the district, Jeremiah covered his face with a shabby cowl and made his way down the narrow cobblestone path. He dodged and weaved his way through the crowd, briefly stopping to refuse a lucky charm shoved in his face by a merchant and helping an elderly woman pick out a decoration for her grandson first day as a C-lister.

The tall cobble alley opened up into a vibrous central square filled with colorful tourists, aggressive vendors, and a brilliant statue at the heart of the plaza. Massive marble and stone buildings stood over the edges of the plaza, adorned with old ivy and flowers from the new world, insignias of great families of the old world, and banners of the research commission. Travelers and merchants from the old and new world had set up pop-up stands and carts at the base of a massive statue of a hunter with her sword drawn towards the sky. Her blade was lined with sapphire stone from the tip of the blade down to its hilt and glistened in the afternoon sunlight. Her face wore a resolute expression, a defiant powerful gaze that overlooked the town square. The magnificence of "Sapphire's Edge" capturing the eyes and imagination of anyone that would look upon it.

Jeremiah pushed his way into the crowd of people vying to buy Asteran trinkets and delicacies for the summer festival. Though the Summer Twilight Festival wasn't set to happen in two months, travelers and merchants from all across the world had already traveled to Astera in anticipation of the summer festival. Pop-up stands and carts crowded the plaza at the base of Sapphire's Edge, any space filled with people haggling for trinkets, spices, and treasures from distant places. Yet, underneath the protective gaze of the town's statue, Jeremiah was on high alert. Hunters prowled for A-listers within the crowd. Armor and weaponry betrayed the most obsessive hunters within the crowd, but Jeremiah weaved through the central plaza like a Nargacuga in the night. Mei, the last hunter subjected to fanboy C-listers, had been held verbally hostage for 5 hours. Jeremiah shuddered at the thought. He was going to meet the Seventh Fleet commander to make a special request.

Jeremiah's experience let him stave off the most egregious C-listers, but he grew complacent as he approached the research headquarters. He had stopped in front of the sapphire fountain and froze: a hunter wearing leather armor stood near the pedestal of the statue. The man's charge blade sat on the ground; its dull metal edges screaming novice. The two made eye contact, and Jeremiah's dismay quickly turned to shock.

"Manuel?!" Jeremiah exclaimed. He wrapped his arms around Manuel in a big hug. "I haven't seen you in the Den since last week. Have you been well?"

"I've been better…" Manuel said. He leaned down and clumsily grabbed the chargeblade.

"Well, tell me," Jeremiah said, gesturing Manuel to walk with him. Manuel put the chargeblade on his back as if it was his first time using the weapon. He turned to walk away.

"I can't. I need to head to the research commission's headquarters to talk with the seventh commander."

Jeremiah wrapped an arm around Manuel's shoulder and began walking with him.

"That's perfect!" Jeremiah said, "I'm headed there too, so we can go together."

Manuel and Jeremiah began making their way through the plaza again. Jeremiah patted Manuel on the back, hearing the cheap metal from most commission weapons.

"Seeing a defender weapon brings me back to my C-list days. Who are you holding the weapon for?" Jeremiah asked.

Manuel hesitated, but answered, "I'm holding it for… me. This was the one they give recruits when they join the C-list."

Jeremiah brought his hand to his mouth, letting the wheels in his head churn. "This means that you… New hunters use this weapon… You're coming back to hunting?"

"I'm not really sure. If anything, I just want to make enough zenny to get by."

"There's other ways to make money." Jeremiah said, "Why become a hunter again? I thought you liked taking care of monsters. And you've been out of practice for how long? 5 years? 6 years?"

"Almost 10 years. But I've been practicing a bit over the years."

Jeremiah was taken aback. "I guess I got the wrong impression of you."

"Wrong impression?"

"Well…" Jeremiah paused to find the right words, "You seemed like the soft-spoken animal handler type. Never thought you had it in you!"

Jeremiah patted Manuel on the back, nearly knocking him over. Once the two arrived at the massive door at the entrance of the commission headquarters, Manuel tried to push on the door to open it.

"That door isn't for people to walk through." Jeremiah said, "We need to take the side entrance."

Manuel kept trying, now pushing his entire weight against the door. "Are you sure? Why would they have this massive door if they were never going to open it?"

Jeremiah shook his head. "Everyone just takes the side door."

Suddenly, Jeremiah and Manuel heard a deep rumble. The gravel on the cobblestone ground seemed to shake and rattle as dust fell off the Gate of the New World. Manuel stepped back, joining Jeremiah. Their jaws dropped as the massive doors began to move. The insignia split in two, revealing the bustling atrium of the Research Commission headquarters. Old wyverians sat atop stacks and stacks of books as hunters and younger researchers swarmed the ground beneath them. Palicos rode dummy waiters to different sides of the building overhead, carrying papers and books with them. Many stopped to admire the great entrance of the research commission opening as even more continued their business navigating the library stacks of research, hunting logs, and information gathered during the arrivals of the 5th, 6th, and 7th fleets. Jeremiah had grown used to seeing the interior, but Manuel stood back in awe.

"Get out of the way!" A stern voice shouted from behind.

Jeremiah and Manuel both turned their heads to see a tall thin man clad in silver armor with a blue cape. He led a caravan of oxen pulling a massive carriage. An aura of menace emanated from the contents of the carriage, creeping into the sanctum of the 7th fleet. Jeremiah instinctively grasped for his weapon, forgetting it was still being repaired, as Manuel took a few cautious steps back. Once inside, the carriage stopped moving and the great doors of the commission headquarters heaved shut.

Jeremiah looked around and spotted the seventh commander sitting on a walkway spanning the fourth floor of the central atrium. She stared down with a disapproving glare at the man in silver armor. He took his helmet off and shot back at Ramona with the same icy stare. The atrium seemed to come to a standstill, all eyes and ears focusing on the two people dominating the room. The man broke the silence with an introduction.

"Madame Ramona Champlain, seventh commander of the research commission. My name is Sir Oliver Laurant of House Laurant. I am a missionary representing the will of King Tidus III, ruler of the Hemlock Archipelago. I come with the blessing of the Goddess, seeking to spread the good word and extend a helping hand to a friend in need."

"Sir Laurant," Ramona gazed down from her wooden perch at Sir Laurant. Welcome to Astera. I presume you haven't braved the landscape for a chat."

"How astute. I have been in correspondence with your advisor." Sir Laurant turned his gaze and gestured to the researchers and hunters watching their exchange, "But may I inform the rest of these future patrons of the Kings beneficence?"

"Laurant, I am the only one you will be doing business with today." The 7th fleet commander looked at the members of the research commission, "But I will allow onlookers"

"Perfect," Said Sir Laurant. He swiveled towards the carriage and clapped twice.

Sir Laurant's assistant, a massive man clad in black armor, dropped onto the stone floor. With slow, hulking steps, he unlatched the sides of the carriage from a thick iron chain wrapped around the sides of the wagon. He dragged the chain across the atrium, letting the metal coils crash onto the ground. He returned to the wagon and pulled out a meter-long metal stake and brass knuckles. He set the stake down and hammered it into the stone floor, letting his metal fists echo throughout the silent library.

The wagon creaked to life as the giant man punched the stake into the ground. Suddenly, a creature within the wagon roared and burst through the white coverings. The charred black and blue scales shone against the blend of sunlight and firelight as its neck strained against the chains holding it down. A Glavenus stood up from the wagon and roared, sending researchers reeling and knocking books and papers off of shelves. Hunters on the sidelines lunged for their weapons. Above the chaos unfolding in the library, the 7th commander had yet to panic, let alone move from her perch. She watched as Sir Laurant's assistant handed him a strange-looking heavy bowgun, most notably having a magazine off the side.

Sir Laurant waved his hand at the panicking onlookers, requesting that they divert their attention from the Glavenus pulling against his iron chain. The assistant lifted the chain and yanked it. The Glavenus toppled forwards, stunning the hunters and researchers watching from the side.

Without hesitation, Laurant spoke, "Attention, residents of Astera. We are standing at the precipice of a new age. As thousands flock to Astera for the summer festival, our safe arrival to this haven of the new world is not guaranteed. It is not the question of 'when we arrive' that plagues our travels, but the fear of 'if we arrive'. It goes without question that monsters and creatures lurk these newly charted lands, so, I ask of all of you, what progress has been made in securing the safety of your people? I walk into the town, watching guards and hunters fight against the horrendous beasts of the new world with pointed sticks. And even if your hunters are capable of protecting themselves and a few of their close confidantes, what of the people that have founded villages in the countryside? A lone hunter and handful of laymen cannot hope to stand a chance against an onslaught of monsters.

Here today, I present an alternative; a method of ensuring mankind's safety as they traverse the dangerous lands of the New World. Behold: the weapon I wield, Sariel's blessing, is a prototype from the scientists of the archipelago. Though similar in size and appearance to what you know as a heavy bowgun, this weapon is designed to be lighter and more powerful than the commission has ever seen. Furthermore, any novice hunter could pick this weapon and defeat any monster they come across. Now watch and behold as the creations of the archipelago provides a safe haven in your tireless crusade in the new world"

Sir Laurant looked at Manuel, scanning him up and down. Laurant approached him and put a hand on his shoulder, smelling the inexperience reek off of Manuel.

"You shall assist me; come," Laurant dragged Manuel in front of the Glavenus. It was still struggling to stand up. The proud and defiant demeanor of the captured Glavenus was gone, leaving the starving husk to struggle against the chain holding it to the wagon.

Laurant spoke to Manuel, "Child, I want you to strike it"

Manuel drew his sword from the shield on his back, mistakenly allowing it to catch onto one of the shield's latches. Wincing, Jeremiah reminded himself that Manuel probably hadn't lifted a weapon in years, yet, decided to return to hunting with one of the most complicated weapons in the guild's arsenal. A few of the hunters beside Jeremiah struggled to hold in their laughter.

Unperturbed, Manuel stood in front of the monster. The dull hue of Manuel's blade matched the dull reflection of the Glavenus scales. Recalling the last time, he had confronted a Glavenus, the tough scales on its face need to be broken before any meaningful damage can be dealt with the monster. Jeremiah noticed the monster's dim hue and weakened frame. The Glavenus probably was starved before this, so a single strike with the sword should be able to do enough damage to break some part of its face.

At this point, Manuel closed his eyes, steeling himself, and raised his sword. He swung down, straining his arm to catapult the weight of the sword directly into the forehead of the Glavenus. It met the monster's head with a brilliant *ching* that reverberated through the now-silent atrium. Manuel had broken a scale on the Glavenus' head, but the monster had been mostly unharmed.

"As expected. Now, help me prove my point," Laurant handed Manuel the gun. Laurant instructed Manuel as he guided the novice's hands to the correct grip of a heavy bowgun, "Point the end of the barrel towards the monster and squeeze the trigger. Watch the recoil."

The wooden wagon creaked and strained against the chained Glavenus as it fruitlessly thrashed atop the cart. Hunters watching from the rafters above began hedging bets. A wyverian researcher pushed against the hunters nearby in a mad scramble for his notebook. Jeremiah had his doubts that a few shots from a heavy bowgun could seriously injure the monster.

Manuel fired the first shot, cracking the silent chatter in of the atrium. Heavy buckshot smashed against the armored scales, nearly breaking the Glavenus' horns. Jeremiah groaned. A spread-shot heavy bowgun had been in use since the arrival of the 5th fleet. The onlooker's interest in the demonstration began to fade.

The bowgun sent another round into the Glavenus' face, followed by another shot. The shotgun blasts swelled into a torrent of bullets crashing into the monster's hide. Jeremiah covered his ears, shocked by the endless barrage of rapid-fire shotgun blasts. How many rounds had Manuel been able to fire? 30? 40?

Sixty rounds. Jeremiah watched, astonished, as the proud armored face of the Glavenus had been reduced to a blue mulch atop its cart. Nothing in the 7th fleet's arsenal could come close to what he had just witnessed. This technology, a few traps, and even a team of C-listers could take on assignments meant for A-listers.

The 7th commander stood above, unmoved and unimpressed by the knight's demonstration. With a quick motion of her hand, the eclectic chatter ceased and the room filled in anticipation of the fleetmaster's words.

"I've seen enough. The Research Commission is in no need of walking artillery when we have fielded hundreds of capable hunters," said the 7th Commander.

A flash of annoyance surfaced in Sir Laurant's graceful smile. "Well, our welcome seems to be overdue. I had hoped the sapphire could see the value of a diamond," Laurant continued, swinging his arms out and gesturing to the crowd of onlookers, "What protection can a hunter give a village hundreds of miles away? What does the lone merchant do as she watches her livelihood is destroyed by a monster? The archipelago is producing weapons akin to this en masse. Ramona, I hope you are ready for what is to come."

"Come back to Astera in two months. You'll see." The 7th answered.

The tension between her and Laurant seemed to grow into outright hostility. A few claps of Laurant's hands broke it. Quickly, Laurant's small army of men dressed in drab clothing appeared, cleaning up the debris and monster parts strewn about the atrium floor. Laurant's assistant tore the spike from the floor and carried it back. His heavy steps clang and rattled as the chain followed him closely behind. Soon, with quiet efficiency, Laurant and his men had left the atrium.

Almost immediately, the doors closed and members of the Research commission returned to their usual activities. The 7th Commander walked back to her office as she began a spirited discussion with her nearby advisor.

"Jeremiah," Manuel called out.

As Jeremiah handed Manuel his chargeblade, he asked, "Manuel, what was that?"

"I don't know. All I did was pull the trigger and the weapon did everything else,"

"That weapon is too dangerous," Jeremiah said, "People are going to rely on it and get hurt if it fails,"

"Are you sure? Hunting would be really easy if you could use weapons like that."

"Hunting is more than killing a monster, Manuel. It's best if you learn that now."


Following the arrival and expansion of the 6th fleet of Astera's commercial activities, the 6th commander decided to create an official building overlooking the Astera's central plaza. The 6th fleet commander had enjoyed overlooking the city so much that he made the executive decision to live in the same building. The Champlain family followed in the 6th commander's footsteps and lived at the highest house in the research headquarters. Now, Jeremiah and Manuel wait in Will's room before their audience with the 7th fleet commander.

At this point, Jeremiah could articulate the twenty reasons why he should be on the next group of hunters traveling to the Hoarfrost reach and settled on affirming and reaffirming himself with the unresponsive hunter before him. Manuel had already grown tired of his speech, choosing to look at the commemorative paintings of Will's exploits as a C-lister and B-lister.

"And that is why I deserve to be on the next ship to the Hoarfrost," Jeremiah finished. He sat down in a chair and leaned forward, looking at Will.

Will's head tilted towards Jeremiah, providing silent but neutral agreement towards Jeremiah. The rest of his body was covered by a thick blanket covered in a colorful patchwork of various cloths and fabrics. The blanket hid the bodily reminders of Will's last fight in Astera's arena. Unfortunately, it was betrayed by the tubing delivering a steady supply of green potion into Will's mouth and a large brace raising the blanket at Will's hips.

A brisk two knocks on the door awoke Manuel and Jeremiah from their stupor. A thin man wearing an overcoat lined with loose papers and documents entered the room. A pair of rounded glasses sat atop his sharp nose, an odd contrast with his rigid, boxy haircut. The man's light but poignant steps instantly filled the room with a sense of urgency and impatience.

"Jeremiah Wood, A-list hunter. My name is Tyrell Stuart. I am second in command of the 7th Fleet," Tyrell grabbed Jeremiah's hand, gave it two brief shakes, and walked over to Manuel. "You must be Manuel Soto, the former Den Keeper."

Tyrell walked out the door and began walking down the hall. Confused, Jeremiah and Manuel stared at each other for a few moments. Tyrell returned, knocking on the wooden doorframe.

"The 7th commander and I are waiting. It would be best for whatever things you have to present if you did not waste any time."

Jeremiah and Manuel followed Tyrell through the wooden hallway leading to the 7th Fleet commander's office. The hallway was lined with doorways leading to offices and libraries containing information about the exploits of all prior fleets beforehand. Jeremiah noticed a few of the paintings of famous new world hunters lining the hallways were interjected with renowned researchers from the 3rd and 6th fleet. He made a mental note to ask about the paintings when Will was awake, as their current host would certainly lack the patience to tell stories.

Jeremiah followed Tyrell through the curtain covering the 7th fleet commander's doorway, laying his eyes on the stacks of documents strewn about the room. Diagrams and annotations covered the detailed map of the New World Peninsula discovered by the 5th fleet. Bookshelves lined with artifacts and monster parts recovered by the various fleets stood at the side of the walls. Messages from different Research Commission bases from the New and Old World hung from ropes stretched across the low ceiling of the room. Aside from the dim candlelight, the bright, spring light illuminated the office from a window behind the 7th commander's desk.

The 7th Fleet Commander stood up from her desk. "Tyrell, I thought we canceled everything to discuss Laurant's weapon." Jeremiah could see the tired creases line the 7th commander's face as she walked towards the map table. Upon seeing Jeremiah and Manuel, her exhausted expression morphed into a mixture of relief and surprise. "Well, I can't say I'm upset to see one of my A-listers and the man that tested the weapon. What are you guys here for?"

Jeremiah took a breath, digging deep within himself to pull the bravery needed to challenge enormous monsters on a daily basis. He looked the 7th commander right in the eyes and made his declaration.

"I would like to join the next deployment to the Hoarfrost reach. I am the best fit -"

The commander interrupted, "Let me stop you right there. No, you can't join the next deployment."

Stunned, Jeremiah said, "Wait, you don't understand. I've been working my entire life to become a hunter in the Hoarfrost. I've proven myself as an excellent hunter by becoming an A-lister. I'm ready to take the risks that come with it"

Ramona sighed and looked at Tyrell. Tyrell briskly walked to a cabinet, shuffled through, and pulled out a folder titled "J. Wood."

Opening the folder, Tyrell began reading, "Final Summary of A-lister candidate: Jeremiah Woods. Candidate demonstrates excellent team and combative skills. Reservations concerning leadership under conditions of extreme duress. Strengths sufficient to warrant position as C-list team leader or freelance hunter in the following regions… Great forest, Coral Highlands, Wildspire Waste, Western Bogs. Sufficient for team hunting in all other areas… excluding Hoarfrost and Guiding lands. Future review pending, 1 year or special extenuating circumstances."

"Wait," Jeremiah said, "There has to be a mistake. I know what I am capable of and I know that I can make it in the Hoarfrost."

"Well, do you expect me to read a 47-page document on why your skills are insufficient?" Tyrell said, in his haughty voice.

The 7th Commander stepped in. "Jeremiah, I don't think you know what's out there. There's a reason why we haven't reclaimed Seliana yet. I'll be the first to tell you when you're ready."

"What does that even mean? How will anyone even know!?" Jeremiah retorted.

"Only when you've given everything, will you be ready to fight in the Hoarfrost." The 7th commander said.

The 7th Fleet commander motioned to Tyrell as she walked in front of Manuel. Despite being out of the field for over 20 years, she still looked like she had the strength to fistfight a Rajang. She leaned forward until she was head height with Manuel.

"Now, let's move onto you, Manuel." The 7th commander said, "I think I know why you're here. After we met last week in the arena, I had Tyrell look around about you. I had to say, I was a bit surprised"

At this point, Tyrell was handing the commander Manuel's old hunter folder. "That surprise is why all you hunters are the same," Tyrell bemoaned.

"Thank you, Tyrell. Now, you enlisted and joined team 14, the same team as Will. For two years, you performed relatively average for most C-listers. Then, you stopped working as a hunter and began helping the Palicos in the Den. Now, you ask for an audience with the head of the guild to become a hunter once again."

Shocked, Manuel said, "That's exactly it. Can I become a hunter?"

"Yeah, sure," answered the 7th commander.

"What!?" cried Tyrell and Jeremiah in unison.

"There's no way he can be ready to start hunting again. Didn't you see him fumble to take out his weapon and strike the Glavenus? If that monster was unchained, he could have gotten seriously hurt," Jeremiah complained.

"And don't even get me started on that demonstration," Tyrell continued, "Clearly, training more inexperienced hunters like this boy is not the answer to our current problems. We need technology from the archipelago to protect our ever-growing research and population needs. There is no way that a single hunter volunteering is going to be the solution. I cannot believe your sheer audacity to debate me about the current failures of our training and the necessity of that infuriating arena, then letting an inexperienced novice return to the ranks of, at the very least, trained hunters."

The 7th commander was unperturbed. "All we need are more hunters. Our current training regime is enough to make capable hunters. We just need more people, and we need more people watching. And what greater motivator is there than a young boy defying all odds and defeating a monster in the arena?"

She turned Manuel towards Jeremiah and Tyrell, motioning to his short and mildly chubby frame in a vain attempt to show off his potential.

Tyrell, however, was unconvinced, "Again, the arena is more of a curse than a blessing. I've already had to shut it down and deal with the fallout from your very own son failing the exam. I could not begin to imagine the shitstorm that would develop from another one of your protégés being permanently debilitated by a monster in the arena. Or even worse, if he just so happened to be -"

"Tyrell, I will let you criticize me, I will let you bring my son into this discussion, so long as its name of the Research Commission. But don't you ever, ever accuse one of my hunters of being a Rider.

Tyrell was taken aback for a brief moment before regaining his composure, "Ah, forgive me Madame 7th. If you fully intend on carrying forward with this ill-founded plan… Despite my intense reservations, I will support you. I simply am concerned about the problems the arena places in our populace."

"Tyrell, the problems you see today will be the solutions we need tomorrow. Trust in the process. It worked for me and it will work for everyone else," said the 7th commander, "Now, Manuel, if you are to return to the hunter's guild, there will be some stipulations. Your return is meant to show anyone can become a hunter, even a cave-dwelling animal keeper."

"Well, thanks… I think"

The 7th continued, "In 2 months, at the Summer Twilight Festival, you will fight a level-two threat monster with an A-lister. I'll have Tyrell put you on a team with the person best suited to get you back up to top-hunting performance."

Manuel looked off to the side towards the center plaza. From here, he could see the entire town square, city walls, and the edges of the Great Forest outside of Astera.

"Child, if you are confused, I can answer any question you have," Tyrell said.

"I do have one question."

"What is it?" asked the 7th Commander.

"Can I choose the monster I hunt in the arena?"

"So long as it's a level-two threat. I would think fighting a Glavenus would best show off your improvement from today's abysmal display of the charge blade. However, any apex monster would suffice," answered Tyrell.

"Then I would like to fight a Nargacuga. The same Nargacuga that Will fought."

"No, that monster possessed strength and defense that would pose a serious threat to A-listers. You will not be ready in time," the 7th commander said.

"Ramona," Tyrell looked at her with a regretful sigh, "I've dealt you hunters enough to see it. That damned infuriating gaze you all get. I don't think he's going to refuse."

The 7th commander locked eyes with Manuel and stared him down. Manuel, intimidated, still did not back down.

"You're right, Tyrell," she said, "Alright, Manuel. I'll let you fight that Nargacuga. But remember, you'll be carrying the reputation of the entire hunting guild when you fight it in 2 months. We'll all be counting on you to make us look good."

As the four began ending their conversation, Manuel and Tyrell left to renew Manuel's hunting registration. Jeremiah was just about to leave the room before the 7th commander stopped him.

"Jeremiah, stop. There's another reason why I didn't let you go to the Hoarfrost Reach."

"I thought it was my leadership under stress."

"That's part of it, but I need A-listers I could trust on a special assignment. I've already recruited the others in your team, Mei and Aurelio. But you're the last to hear about this. Now, I want to know… have you ever heard of 'the demon, Redan'?"

"He's a fairytale used to scare children," Jeremiah recalled the times his parents would scare him into behaving properly or eating his vegetables. He was an evil spirit that would lure children into the woods and feed them to his pet monsters.

"Well, every story has a shred of truth to it. You may know that the official purpose of the 7th fleet is to reclaim Seliana and continue research in the New World. However, our secondary objective is quite possibly as important as the first. Jeremiah, we are facing a war on two fronts. One against the monsters that took over Seliana and another against the people that rode in on their backs. We are fighting against monster Riders."

Jeremiah was astonished, "What? I thought the hunting guild exterminated the last of the Riders in the old world. Are they still out there? What are they planning?"

"After I left, the Research Commission got too close to something in the Hoarfrost. Now, we barely have a foothold in the region and we're at risk of outposts in the guiding lands and elder recesses," the 7th commander said, "As for their plans, that's where you come in. Your assignment: Capture a Rider alive. If possible, capture their monster as well. You will report directly to me."

"Wait, 7th, How will I know if a Rider is… well a Rider?"

"All we know is that Riders carry kinship stones. It's the source of their power. There's not much else that gives them away."

Jeremiah stared at the great map at the center of the room. Everywhere, anywhere on that map could hide Riders. Resolute, Jeremiah shifted his focus back to the 7th commander.

"Commander, I'm ready for this."

Shortly after, Jeremiah left the Research Commission headquarters with a newfound sense of purpose. The plaza crowd had died down with the setting sun, leaving far more space between the vendors filling the plaza. Jeremiah passed underneath the plaza's statue and made his way back to the Astera's Ironworks. The forge was still empty, aside from Thorin bending a piece of scrap metal at the front and his father hammering away near the furnace.

Thorin perked up when he saw Jeremiah, "Ey, laddie. Did the big lady give you permission to be shipped off ta the ol' icebox?"

"Not quite. Can I talk to your father?"

"He ain't done with yer weapon, but if noises and baubles'll entertain ya, go for it."

Jeremiah approached the short-round smithy, already sweating from the intense heat of the forge. He brought a seat down beside the smith and waiting to be noticed. But the man continued to tend to Jeremiah's hunting horn as he was reheating the weapon for further melding.

"Mr. Smith, what do you know about the riders?"

Devaun Smith's eyes bulged as he took a deep, unsteady breath inside. His spotless forehead moistened with sweat as a low growl rumbled from his chest. The smithy's brows hardened as much as his grip on his hammer. The mere mention of Riders drew a resentful rage hotter than the fire from any forge.

"I need to know what a kinship stone looks like."

With nothing more than a name, the smithy set down his tools and began marching towards the plaza. Thorin, unaware of the conversation wandered towards Jeremiah.

"Me old man never had that look before. What in the blazes was that?" Thorin asked.

"Something tells me he's had me that look before," Jeremiah said, "And he's going to help me save Seliana."


A/N: 2 weeks? More like 12+ months. Again, comments/feedback are always appreciated.