Towards A Brighter Future Chapter 6

Towards A Brighter Future Chapter 6: Profit and Affection.

The first light of dawn painted Leostra's massive walls in shades of amber and gold as the Astera caravan approached. Rising like the skeleton of some ancient titan, the city's fortifications loomed against the brightening sky—massive stone bulwarks topped with watchtowers where torches still burned against the fading night. Aurelian studied the architecture with keen interest, noting the strategic placement of archer positions and the wear patterns on the stone suggesting centuries of existence.

"Impressive," he murmured to Kento, who rode beside him on the lead cart. "Though more concerned with keeping people out than monsters."

Kento adjusted his grip on the reins of their Aptonoth. "The monsters of Leostra walk on two legs and speak fine words," he said quietly. "Remember that when we're inside."

The carts creaked under their bounty—not just the carefully packed crates of mandragora but now the shimmering pelts and harvested parts of the Zinogre and Tobi-Kadachi. The electrified scales still occasionally sparked with residual energy, casting brief blue flickers beneath the tarpaulins. The Aptonoth plodded forward with surprising docility considering their wild origins.

As they approached the gatehouse, Aurelian counted sixteen guards—eight bearing standard military arms and armor, the others clearly hunters with their specialized weapons and armor crafted from monster parts. The latter group carried themselves with the practiced vigilance of those accustomed to facing death regularly.

"Hold!" called the lead guard, raising a gauntleted hand. His eyes widened slightly as he registered the Aptonoth pulling their carts. "What in the name of the sapphire star..."

Two of the hunters pushed forward, recognition dawning on their faces.

"Kento? By the Ancients, is that you?" The first hunter, a woman with a scar bisecting her left cheek, stepped closer.

Her companion, a broad-shouldered man with a greatsword strapped across his back, froze mid-stride. "Wait—your arm..."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the guards as they noticed what the hunters had—where Kento's stump had been on previous visits, a perfectly functional arm now extended. Even more striking was the subtle transformation of his features; the deep lines that had mapped his face had softened, giving him an appearance years younger than when he'd last passed through these gates.

Kento smiled easily, though Aurelian noted the calculated casualness in his posture. "Mira, Harn. Good to see familiar faces. We've brought goods to trade."

The female hunter—Mira—approached the cart, her gaze never leaving Kento's restored limb. "Your arm... how is this possible?"

"A long tale," Kento replied, "and one we dont have time to tell."

The other hunters had begun circling the carts, their attention now split between Kento's miraculous restoration and the unusual sight of wild Aptonoth harnessed to the wagons. Several peered beneath the tarpaulins, exclamations of surprise marking their discoveries.

One guard, taller than the others with a captain's insignia on his pauldron, approached Aurelian directly. His eyes traveled up the Primarch's towering frame, widening slightly as he took in the full extent of Aurelian's stature.

"You," he said, voice pitched to carry authority. "I don't recall seeing you with previous Astera expeditions."

Aurelian met his gaze without blinking, allowing a fraction of his presence to press outward—not quite psychic influence, but the natural dominance of a Primarch that made lesser beings instinctively want to submit.

"Do you personally catalog every resident of Astera who visits your city?" Aurelian asked, his deep voice carrying easily despite its conversational volume. "Or are you in the habit of making accusations against travelers before they've even entered your gates?"

The guard captain held his gaze for three heartbeats before breaking eye contact, a thin sheen of sweat appearing on his brow. He took a half-step backward, hand drifting toward his weapon before thinking better of it.

"I—that is—we must maintain vigilance," he managed, voice noticeably less confident.

A younger guard had pulled back one of the tarpaulins completely, revealing crate upon crate of carefully packed mandragora. His whistle of surprise cut through the tension.

"Captain! Look at this—it's almost entirely mandragora!" The guard's voice carried enough that several nearby citizens slowed their approach to the gate, curiosity piqued. "I've never seen so much in one place!"

The captain's eyes narrowed suspiciously, momentarily forgetting his intimidation. "Where did you come by such quantities? This is more than most hunting parties see in a year."

Another guard had discovered the monster parts. "And these—Zinogre pelts? Perfect electric organs? These are premium materials!"

Kento shifted in his seat, his restored hand deliberately visible on the reins. "Is it now the duty of gate guards to interrogate honest traders about the sources of their goods? We've broken no laws. The mandragora was cultivated, the monsters hunted fairly."

A tense silence followed as the captain assessed their party. Aurelian noted several of the Astera hunters subtly adjusting their stances, hands drifting toward weapons. Even Sora, perched atop the second cart, had unhooked her Palico club and was bristling, her white fur standing on end as she hissed softly.

The hunter called Harn stepped forward, placing a hand on the captain's shoulder. "Let them through, Varton. I've known Kento for fifteen years. If he says they came by these goods honestly, I believe him."

"The Guild will want to examine—" the captain began.

"And they can," Kento interjected calmly. "We intend to sell through proper channels. We're traders, not smugglers."

One of the Astera hunters, a younger woman with a shock of red hair, spoke up. "We've been on the road for days. If you're going to turn away the first significant trade caravan from Astera in months, at least have the courtesy to say so directly so we can take our business elsewhere."

This seemed to finally penetrate the captain's suspicion. His eyes lingered on the carts, calculating the value of the goods—and no doubt the taxes and fees the city would collect from their sale.

"Open the gates," he ordered finally, stepping aside. "But," he added, pointing at Kento, "the Guild Master will hear of this unusual... bounty."

"I would expect nothing less," Kento replied with a diplomatic smile that didn't reach his eyes.

The massive stone gates groaned as they swung inward, revealing the bustling morning activity of Leostra's outer market district. As they urged the Aptonoth forward, Aurelian leaned closer to Kento.

"The Guild Master—friend or foe?" he asked quietly.

Kento's weathered face twisted into a grimace. "Morris is neither friend nor foe. He's a merchant to his bones—gold first, loyalty second." He flicked the reins, urging their Aptonoth forward through the gates. "The real problem is that he's surrounded by the sons and daughters of every noble house and hunting clan in Verdantia. They serve as his 'apprentices'—glorified spies, the lot of them."

"So he reports to Gharis," Aurelian concluded, his eyes scanning the fortifications with the practiced assessment of a military commander.

"Not directly," Kento replied as they entered the broad main avenue. "But if we give Morris reason to worry, one whisper to the right noble offspring and word reaches the palace by nightfall. He maintains his position through perfect impartiality—or at least the appearance of it."

Leostra unfolded before them like a living tapestry. Unlike the rustic functionality of Astera, the capital was a monument to hierarchy and wealth. Wide cobblestone streets radiated from central plazas, lined with multi-storied buildings of quarried stone and timber. Merchants called their wares from colorful stalls while Felynes scurried between them, carrying packages or sweeping the streets. The air was thick with the mingled scents of spices, cooking meat, tanned leather, and the ever-present metallic tang of a city where weapons were forged day and night.

"The outer ring is mostly craftsmen and common merchants," Kento explained, gesturing to the bustling shops they passed. "Tanners, weavers, general goods. The quality improves as you move inward—and so do the prices."

Aurelian nodded, absorbing every detail with his enhanced senses. "And the security increases proportionally, I imagine."

"Naturally," Kento confirmed. "The inner ring houses the weapon smiths, alchemists, and specialized monster part traders—all Guild-licensed, of course. Beyond that lies the noble district and—" he pointed toward a massive structure that dominated the skyline, its towers adorned with crimson banners, "—Gharis's palace."

The palace rose like a predator among prey, its architecture more fortress than residence. Even from this distance, Aurelian could see the glint of sunlight on armor as guards patrolled the battlements. A series of massive chimneys belched black smoke into the sky—the royal forges never ceased their labor.

Their procession drew considerable attention. Citizens stopped in their tracks, merchants paused mid-haggle, and conversations died as they passed. The Aptonoth were exotic enough—wild beasts tamed and harnessed to carts—but Aurelian himself drew the most lingering gazes. His towering frame and regal bearing marked him as something extraordinary, even in a city accustomed to diverse travelers.

A group of young women in elaborate silk dresses whispered behind painted fans as they passed, their eyes following Aurelian with undisguised interest. Their finery and the two armored guards trailing discreetly behind marked them as nobility, perhaps daughters of Gharis's court.

Kento caught Aurelian's eye and smirked. "Be careful around that sort," he muttered. "Noble daughters looking for excitement. They'd eat you alive and keep you as a paramour given half the chance."

Aurelian snorted derisively. "I'd sooner pound sand into glass with my bare hands."

"Nyaa! Good choice!" Sora chimed in from her perch, her blue eyes narrowing at the noblewomen. "Those ones smell like trouble and too much perfume!"

The hunters escorting them burst into laughter, tension momentarily broken by the Felyne's assessment. Even Kento chuckled, though his eyes remained vigilant, scanning the crowds for any sign of official interest in their caravan.

"The Grand Market is just ahead," Kento said as they turned onto an even broader avenue. "That's the Noble Hunter's Guild Hall," he added, pointing to a massive stone building with monster skulls mounted above its entrance. "And there," he indicated a sprawling complex of interconnected buildings surrounded by a low wall, "is the Merchant's Guild—Morris's domain."

They passed a public square where a crowd had gathered around what appeared to be a demonstration. A Guild-licensed hunter wielded an elaborate switch-axe against a training dummy made to resemble a Rathalos, explaining the weapon's mechanics to an audience of wide-eyed apprentices and curious citizens. The hunter's movements were exaggerated, clearly more showmanship than practical technique.

"Propaganda," Kento muttered. "Remind the common folk how much they need Noble Guild hunters with Guild weapons."

Finally, they reached the inner market—a vast, open plaza surrounded by permanent shops with elaborate facades. Here, the real wealth of Leostra was on display. Monster parts of every description hung from specialized stalls—horns, claws, scales, and pelts organized by rarity and quality. Alchemists hawked potions from behind glass counters, the liquids within glowing with vibrant colors. Weapon displays showcased blades that would never see actual combat—ornamental pieces for wealthy collectors who fancied themselves hunters.

Kento steered them toward a particular shop at the plaza's edge—a well-maintained but modest establishment compared to its neighbors. The wooden sign above the door depicted a stylized monster scale balanced on a merchant's scale.

"Dorvis," Kento called as they approached. "Still cheating honest hunters out of their hard-earned zenny?"

A portly man with a meticulously trimmed beard emerged from the shop, his eyes crinkling with genuine pleasure. "Kento, you old forest lizard! I thought the jungle had finally claimed—" His words died as his gaze fell on Kento's restored arm. "What in the name of the First Wyvern?"

Kento flexed his fingers demonstratively. "A long story, old friend, and one I'm not eager to tell where Guild ears might hear."

Dorvis's gaze darted to Aurelian next, his merchant's eyes widening as he took in the Primarch's imposing stature. Despite the obvious shock, he extended his hand without hesitation. "Any friend of Kento's is welcome at my door, though I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Aurelian," the Primarch replied, accepting the handshake with measured strength. He felt the merchant's pulse quicken at the contact—a natural response to his presence.

"We need to move quickly," Kento said, his voice dropping to ensure only Dorvis could hear. "Unload our goods, settle a fair price, and get clear of Leostra before the Guild enforcers start asking questions we don't want to answer. Or worse—before Gharis himself takes an interest."

Dorvis nodded sharply, his merchant's mind already calculating. "Let's see what you've brought, then."

At Kento's signal, the Astera hunters pulled back the tarpaulins, revealing their bounty. Dorvis's professional composure cracked as he beheld crate after crate of mandragora—each specimen larger and more vibrant than any he'd seen before. His hands trembled slightly as he lifted one for inspection.

"Merciful stars," he breathed. "The timing couldn't be better. There's a shortage—the worst in years. Hi-potion prices have tripled in the last month alone." His eyes darted between the carts, taking inventory. "And those Zinogre parts... perfect condition. How did you—"

Before he could finish, a commotion erupted nearby. Several other merchants had noticed the uncovered carts, and word spread through the market with the speed of wildfire. Within moments, a crowd of traders converged on them, shouting offers.

"Two thousand zenny per crate!"

"I'll trade prime Rathalos plates for half your stock!"

"Three thousand and exclusive rights to your next shipment!"

Dorvis's face flushed crimson. "Go fuck yourselves, vultures! This is my trade!" He turned to his guards—burly men who had materialized from inside the shop. "Get these parasites away from my establishment!"

The competing merchants weren't easily deterred. One particularly aggressive trader thrust his way forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Dorvis. "You can't monopolize a shipment this size! I'll speak to Morris myself! The Guild has regulations against—"

"Against what?" Aurelian stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. The merchant's words died in his throat as he craned his neck to meet the Primarch's gaze. "Against free traders choosing their business partners? Or is it simply that you're upset you weren't quick enough to secure the deal yourself?"

A tense silence fell over the gathered merchants. Aurelian's presence seemed to expand, filling the space between the buildings. It wasn't psychic manipulation—merely the natural authority of his being asserting itself.

"The goods belong to Astera," Aurelian continued, his voice reasonable but unyielding. "And we've chosen to deal with Dorvis first, as is our right. If you wish to discuss future shipments, I suggest approaching with respect rather than entitlement."

The aggressive merchant swallowed hard, taking an involuntary step backward. "I—that is—" he stammered before gathering his dignity. "Morris will hear about this," he managed before retreating.

Several others followed suit, muttering threats or final offers as they dispersed. Aurelian noticed at least three well-dressed individuals melting into the crowd—likely the noble "apprentices" Kento had mentioned, already rushing to report this unusual development to their Guild Master.

Dorvis released a long breath. "Well, that's torn it. We have an hour at most before Morris sends his representatives." He turned to Kento with newfound respect in his eyes. "Your friend here has quite the presence. Now, let's talk price while we still can."

Kento's eyes narrowed as he assessed the crates of mandragora, his fingers drumming against the weathered wood of Dorvis's counter. "Each specimen is twice the standard size and nearly triple the potency. You won't find better in Verdantia—or beyond its borders, for that matter."

Dorvis smiled thinly, running a practiced thumb over one of the specimens. "Impressive, yes, but hardly worth the five thousand per crate you're suggesting." He set the plant down delicately. "The market's volatile. I'd be taking all the risk. Three thousand."

"Three thousand?" Kento scoffed. "For mandragora this size? The Guild alchemists will fight each other bloody for stock of this quality. Don't insult me, old friend."

From his perch on Aurelian's broad shoulders, Sora's ears flattened. "Nyaa! Stingy merchant! My whiskers say he's lying about the price!"

Aurelian stood silently, arms crossed, towering over the negotiation. His presence alone seemed to exert pressure on the merchant, who kept glancing up at him nervously.

"Four thousand," Dorvis countered, sweat beading at his temples. "Per crate. That's my final offer."

Kento glanced at Aurelian, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Four thousand for the mandragora crates and the mixed crop crates. And fifty thousand for the monster parts—though the bones and pelts stay with us."

Dorvis's eyebrows rose. "The pelts? But the Zinogre pelt alone would fetch—"

"Are not for sale," Aurelian stated, his deep voice reverberating in the small shop. "They're mine for armor use."

The merchant swallowed, then nodded. "Very well. Four thousand per crate and fifty thousand for the remaining monster parts." He pulled out a ledger, making quick calculations with a practiced hand. "With three hundred crates total... that comes to... one million two hundred and fifty thousand zenny."

He stated the figure without flinching, already mentally calculating his own profit margin. The mandragora alone would sell to the Guild alchemists for triple what he was paying.

Kento, however, physically staggered, placing a hand on the counter to steady himself. "One... million... two hundred and fifty..." he whispered, unable to even complete the sentence.

Aurelian placed a steadying hand on the elder hunter's shoulder. "Just the beginning, Kento." His lips curved in a knowing smile as Sora purred in agreement, kneading tiny paws against the Primarch's hair.

Dorvis pulled out a heavy iron strongbox, unlocking it with a key kept around his neck. The sight of so much currency piled inside—silver and gold coins stamped with the royal seal of Leostra—was enough to make even the stoic hunters from Astera gape.

As the merchant counted out their payment, Kento leaned closer to him. "Dorvis, I need another favor. Send word to your merchant contacts. We'll need weapon and armor ores, construction materials, tools, plants, spices... and whatever monster parts they can spare."

Dorvis paused mid-count, a gleam of understanding in his eyes. "Construction materials? And in such quantity?" He chuckled softly, setting aside a stack of high-denomination coins. "Going to expand that little settlement of yours, are you?"

"It's time," Kento replied simply, his restored hand flexing unconsciously.

"Time indeed," Dorvis murmured, signaling to one of his guards who stood near the doorway. The burly man approached, receiving whispered instructions before departing at a brisk pace. "He'll spread the word."

"Gharis won't like it," the merchant added, voice dropping further. "A settlement growing beyond its charter limits? With resources to match the frontier towns? He'll see it as a challenge."

Kento's weathered face hardened. "The things Gharis doesn't like could fill a whole planet. One more won't matter."

"It will if that one thing threatens his control of the continent's economy," Dorvis countered, though there was a hint of excitement in his tone. "Still, it's about time someone did."

With the transaction complete, Dorvis secured their payment in reinforced leather pouches distributed among the Astera hunters. The weight of the zenny alone would have been burden enough, but the added weight of responsibility made some of the younger hunters stand straighter, eyes darting protectively around the marketplace.

"We should eat before continuing our purchases," Kento suggested, patting his stomach. "I know a tavern nearby where the Guild informants don't frequent. Good food, better ale, and the proprietor was a hunter himself before a Diablos took his leg."

Sora's ears perked up at the mention of food. "Nyaa! Fish stew? Or maybe roasted Aptonoth with herbs? Sora is starving after all this business talk!" The Felyne stretched languidly across Aurelian's shoulders before leaping down to the cobblestones with characteristic feline grace.

They had barely taken three steps from Dorvis's shop when disaster struck. The marketplace had grown more crowded as midday approached, with nobles and wealthy merchants emerging to browse the premium wares. One such noble—a corpulent man draped in silks dyed in Leostra's royal crimson, with rings adorning every finger—strode through the crowd as if it should part naturally before him.

Sora, distracted by a nearby fish vendor's display, didn't notice the approach. The noble's boot connected with her small body, sending the Felyne tumbling with a painful yowl.

"Useless creature!" the noble spat, not even breaking stride. "Watch where you're standing! Filthy beasts should be kept on leashes in the market district."

The temperature in the marketplace seemed to drop several degrees. The busy sounds of commerce faded as a palpable wave of dread washed over the nearest stalls. The noble froze mid-step, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as primal instinct warned him of imminent danger.

He turned slowly to find Aurelian standing directly behind him—though "standing" hardly captured the looming presence of the Primarch. The noble's head barely reached Aurelian's chest, forcing him to crane his neck upward. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Aurelian's eyes had transformed, the warm brown replaced by crimson slits that glowed with barely contained fury. A dark aura seemed to emanate from his massive frame—a miasma of red and black energy that even non-psychic individuals could perceive as a physical manifestation of rage. In his massive hands, he cradled Sora's small form with infinite gentleness, a stark contrast to the murderous intent radiating from him.

Since arriving on this world, Sora and Almira had become the closest things to family for the young Primarch—maternal figures who had welcomed him without question or agenda. To see the Felyne kicked aside like refuse had awakened something primordial in Aurelian's transhuman physiology.

"You," Aurelian's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried with the authority of planets and stars, "will apologize to her." The words hung in the air, pregnant with threat.

The marketplace had gone completely silent. Even the birds perched on the eaves of nearby buildings had ceased their chatter.

"I—" the noble began, his voice cracking. A dark stain spread across the front of his expensive silken trousers as his bladder released involuntarily. "I don't... that is... it's just a Felyne..."

Aurelian leaned closer, his voice dropping to a register that seemed to vibrate the very cobblestones beneath their feet. "Apologize now, or I will flay the skin from your bones and leave you as a living chew toy for the local monsters. They will feast on your entrails while you watch, still conscious, still feeling every bite."

It wasn't an idle threat. In that moment, everyone present knew with bone-deep certainty that this towering figure was fully capable—and willing—to deliver exactly that fate.

"I—I—I'm s-sorry!" the noble stammered, dropping to his knees, heedless of the puddle soaking into his garments. "Forgive me, honored Felyne! A thousand apologies! I wasn't looking—my fault entirely!"

In Aurelian's arms, Sora's whiskers twitched with smug satisfaction. She peered down at the groveling noble, tail swishing regally. "Nyaa! Sora accepts your apology. But you should be more careful! Small doesn't mean unimportant!"

The noble nodded frantically, still on his knees, afraid to rise without permission.

"Leave," Aurelian commanded, his voice returning to something closer to normal, though the crimson glow in his eyes remained. "Before I reconsider my mercy."

The man scrambled to his feet and fled, not daring to look back, shoving past onlookers in his desperation to escape.

As the noble disappeared into the crowd, the marketplace remained unnaturally quiet. Dozens of eyes fixed on Aurelian—some with fear, others with newfound respect, and a few with deep interest. The Primarch had revealed himself as more than just an unusually tall human; he had demonstrated power that couldn't be ignored.

Aurelian turned back to find Kento and their five Astera escorts with hands already on their weapons—not just ready but eager to carve the noble into pieces for his treatment of Sora. The elder hunter's weathered knuckles had gone white against the hilt of his hunting knife, while the youngest of their group had already notched an arrow, his face a mask of cold fury.

"Palicos are not pets," Kento said quietly, his restored hand slowly releasing his weapon as the noble fled. "In Astera, they're family. That pompous sack of Aptonoth dung is lucky you got to him first."

Sora, still nestled against Aurelian's chest, purred contentedly. Her tiny paws kneaded against his tunic, the vibration somehow drawing the burning crimson from his eyes. "Nyaa, Sora is fine," she chirped, though her ear still twitched where the noble's boot had connected. "Too stubborn to be hurt by such a weak kick!"

The marketplace around them slowly resumed its normal rhythm, though Aurelian noted how many gazes now followed their group—some fearful, others calculating, and a few nakedly interested. Word would spread. It couldn't be helped now.

"Perhaps we should get food sooner rather than later," Kento suggested, scanning the crowd with practiced wariness. "And begin our purchases early. For all we know, that waste of silk will find fresh trousers and run crying to Gharis before midday."

Aurelian nodded, gently setting Sora down on the cobblestones. The Felyne stretched dramatically, her white fur catching the midday sun like fresh snow, before strutting ahead with her tail held high—deliberately showing the marketplace that she was entirely unharmed and unaffected.

The Primarch had taken barely three steps when a gentle voice called from behind them.

"Excuse me?"

Aurelian turned toward the sound and felt something extraordinary happen in his chest. His primary and secondary hearts—organs that had pumped calmly through monster combat, warp storms, and confrontations with eldritch beings—suddenly accelerated to a thundering pace.

She stood framed by the afternoon light, tall for a human woman but still nearly two feet shorter than his towering frame. Loose strands of dark hair escaped a teal bandana, framing an open, curious face dominated by warm brown eyes behind round spectacles. Her full lips curved in a smile that was both scholarly and somehow inviting. A simple explorer's coat hung from her shoulders, practical but unable to fully disguise the feminine curves beneath.

"Bleugh?" Aurelian managed, his normally commanding voice reduced to an incoherent sound. A sound no primarch with the emperors gifts and waifu catalog talents should say.

The woman's laugh was like crystal bells, making the Primarch's enhanced hearing focus exclusively on the sound to the exclusion of all else. Beside him, Kento and the Astera hunters pressed their lips together, shoulders shaking with barely contained amusement. Only Sora seemed unaffected, sitting on her haunches with her head tilted, blue eyes twinkling with something that looked suspiciously like approval.

Traitors, Aurelian thought viciously, unable to summon the presence of mind to glare at them.

"I'm Alma," the woman said, adjusting her glasses with a scholar's delicate fingers. "I couldn't help but notice your caravan earlier. Those were some extraordinary specimens you were carrying."

Alma. The name resonated in Aurelian's mind like the strike of a perfect bell. Even as he struggled to compose himself, a distant part of his consciousness recognized her—not from personal experience but from data stored within his Waifu Catalog memories. She was the spitting image of a character from Monster Hunter Wilds, brought impossibly to life with every detail intact, down to the eager scholarly light in her eyes.

"I was wondering," she continued, seemingly unperturbed by his continued silence, "if you might have any monster bones available for trade? I'm conducting research on comparative monster physiologies, and fresh specimens are—well, they're quite difficult to come by. The Guild restricts access to most researchers who aren't directly in their employ."

Kento cleared his throat meaningfully, elbowing Aurelian in the ribs—a gesture that would have been impossible to notice against his Primarch physiology if he hadn't been so uncharacteristically distracted.

"We have... bones," Aurelian finally managed, his usual eloquence abandoned entirely. "Many bones. Good ones."

One of the Astera hunters snorted audibly, turning it into an unconvincing cough when Aurelian shot him a murderous glance.

"What my friend means," Kento stepped in smoothly, "is that we do indeed have specimen-grade monster remains that might interest a scholar."

"Oh, wonderful!" Alma's face lit up with genuine excitement—not the practiced courtly enthusiasm of the noble ladies they'd passed earlier, but the unrestrained joy of someone passionate about their work. "I can offer a fair price in zenny. The research stipend from House Velharn isn't much, but for quality specimens—"

Aurelian suddenly snapped back to himself, moving with Primarch speed to the nearest cart. He returned bearing a bundle wrapped in oiled cloth, bowing formally as he presented it to Alma.

"A gift," he said, finding his voice at last. "These are the vertebral joints of both the Zinogre and Tobi-Kadachi. Perfect comparative specimens, with the electrical channel conduits still intact."

Alma's eyes widened as she partially unwrapped the bundle, revealing the pristine bones within. Her fingers trembled slightly as they traced the distinctive neural grooves where the monsters' bio-electricity had once flowed.

"These are... extraordinary," she breathed, looking up at Aurelian with newfound respect. "Are you certain? These would fetch thousands at the Guild research hall."

Kento appeared ready to object—these were indeed valuable components—but one look at Aurelian's face silenced him. The elder hunter's lips twitched into a knowing smile.

"The Big man has spoken," he said cryptically, bowing his head. "They are a gift."

Alma fumbled with her satchel, still staring at the bones. "I must at least offer something in return. I have some zenny saved from my last—"

"No," Aurelian said, his voice gentle but firm. "It is freely given. For your research."

The scholar's cheeks colored beautifully as she clutched the bundle to her chest. She bit her lower lip, seemingly weighing some internal decision, then stepped forward.

"Would you... bend down a moment?" she asked, her voice suddenly shy.

Aurelian complied without hesitation, lowering his massive frame until their faces were level. Alma leaned forward quickly, pressing soft lips against his cheek in a gesture of thanks before stepping back, her face now thoroughly flushed.

"That's very sweet of you," she said, not quite meeting his eyes. "Perhaps we'll cross paths again while you're in Leostra? I'd love to hear more about where you found these specimens."

The Primarch stood frozen, one hand unconsciously rising to touch the spot where her lips had made contact. He was suddenly, acutely aware of every subtle shift in the air currents around him, the exact temperature of the cobblestones beneath his feet, and most of all, the wild, uncontrolled rhythm pounding in his chest.

Alma clutched her precious bundle, bowed again in thanks, and turned to leave—though not without a final glance over her shoulder, her smile both shy and somehow inviting before she disappeared into the crowd.

"He's blushing!" exclaimed the youngest Astera hunter, no longer bothering to hide his amusement. "Look at him! The great Aurelian, red as a Rathalos!"

"Hush," Kento admonished, though his own eyes danced with merriment. "Let the man process his first... encounter with scholarship."

Sora leapt onto a nearby barrel, bringing her face level with Aurelian's. She sniffed at his cheek where Alma's kiss had landed, whiskers twitching with amusement. "Nyaa! Pretty lady likes our Aurelian! Sora approves—she smells like old books and kindness, not like those perfumed nobles!"

Aurelian turned to Kento, his expression utterly bewildered. "I've never told you this," he said slowly, "but I have two hearts."

Kento's eyebrows rose. "Two hearts? That's... unusual."

"Yes." Aurelian nodded solemnly. "And currently, both are beating approximately 215 times per minute, despite the absence of physical exertion or immediate danger." He paused, looking in the direction Alma had disappeared with an expression of profound confusion. "I believe I am... in love."

The declaration set off a round of good-natured laughter from the entire group. Even Aurelian's lips curved into a reluctant smile as he realized how utterly ridiculous he must sound—a being engineered for conquest and war, a primarch of the emperor, brought low by a pretty scholar's smile.