As one hunter party set forth on a journey to answer a muster call, they were not alone. Many others heard the plea too and set out to aid. Many more did not.

Ah, hunters.

Those slayers of monsters, heroes from stories, and saviors of the innocent. Who were they really?

Marguerite thought she had a bit of an idea. It came with dealing with the lot as her job, being one of the two [Receptionists] employed at Coursan’s guild.

It was just another day in the quiet seaside town, and she was, as always, on time for her job.

“Good morning Margie.”

“Morning Clara.”

She gave her coworker a curt nod as she stepped inside the quaint wooden building, then took a quick look at the usual suspects.

Despite the early hour, and despite the fact that the place would only officially open in an hour, there was already one party of hunters loitering at the tables—a few of them looking her way. The Golden Shields, a newer local team.

The first type of hunter.

See, Marguerite had a classification system of sorts. Broadly speaking, all hunters could be categorized into three types, and the system had never failed her so far. The first type of hunter was the type who was in the job more-so for the aesthetic. Big weapons, always visible. Muscled bodies, always proudly displayed.

But precious few scars.

The type who tended to spend suspiciously much time loitering at the guild and local taverns. If you really ran the numbers… they couldn’t be spending more than one day a week on missions. Marguerite measured the group’s tall leader with a side-eye as she walked past them.

Guess keeping that stomach toned requires a lot of work.

She didn’t mind the lot that much—they were polite, mannerly enough, and decent to look at. And they also put quite a bit of coin in their guild’s coffers. More than they really should be able to, considering their earnings…

Marguerite paused at the backroom door and took another look at the lot. Especially their blond-haired [Swordman] of a leader who was always sneaking glances at her. Could that [Gossip] have been right? Is he actually a runaway Noble of some sort?

Of course, she didn’t generally accept any advances this sort made. She was only 19 years of age and level 10, so her prospects were decent, and marriage to a hunter… She shuddered. I’ve seen that disaster play out one too many times. But a maybe-noble though…

She caught him looking again, and decided to risk it, answering him with a wink. Then she stepped into the backroom and closed the door behind her, feeling rather pleased with that. Let him stew on that for a while.

Distractions like that could be fun… but Marguerite looked at the pile of papers arrayed on her work desk. She rolled back her sleeves. Distractions could wait.

Work could not.

She activated her [Receptionist Vision] and saw last night’s work highlighted around the room. Time to sort through some reports.

—

Marguerite finished the last lines of her town-hall report just a few minutes before her shift at the reception table. It was the standard weekly report, a collection of all monster and beast sightings in the past week, with information on what hunter parties had cleared what threats. Routine work, but quite fun.

Almost like reading stories, except these were real. She always found it a bit thrilling.

But summarizing poorly-told stories into a simpler and more efficient format only provided so much entertainment, so when she sat down at the reception table and saw that affairs in the guild remained calm with the usual suspects loitering out, Marguerite opened up a cupboard and took out more papers, getting back to her real work.

Her thesis. She had already leveled up thrice while writing it.

You didn’t usually have to do that much at the reception table, so she always had plenty of time to spend on her own projects here, and this would be a culmination of a year’s work. She felt quite a bit of pride as she ran through her findings, the result of combing through dusty archives for many sleepless nights.

The bundles of papers and notebooks were nearing completion, and she was sure that it would net her an uncommon class upgrade. Because… this work would be important.

It was a study on trends in monster appearances. And they were on the rise, steadily.

She had started the project on a whim, after realizing how different the reports from 50 years back were—she had always liked combing through forgotten back shelves for anything of interest. No treasure maps or forgotten inheritances yet, but information like this was a treasure of its own.

So, as she began, Marguerite looked over her report with pride. It had taken a lot of effort, but the conclusion she had come to was unsettling, but also thrilling. A steady, continuing upward trend.

Marguerite’s heart beat faster as she ran through the next batch of old notebooks, and the new additions again matched with the trend. When I show this to the [Guildmaster]… my promotion will be guaranteed!

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Just as she was really getting into a good flow, a thump at the table jolted her awake.

The auburn-haired [Receptionist] looked up from her desk and met the calm eyes of another local hunter group, but one of a different type than the previous.

The second type—the professionals. Hunters in it for the money, and little else. Few sword-swinging jobs gave such freedom as this career.

This group were the Ironhounds, a party of five former [Soldiers] in thick amour with growling hound faces painted on. They took few risks, and mainly hunted smaller monsters with the aid of their hunting dogs.

“Hate to interrupt you miss, but time is running. Any new jobs come in today?”

Marguerite put her thesis papers away into a lower cupboard, then quickly looked over the notes left behind by Clara from the previous shift. Missions… nothing new has come in after yesterday, just the same bits… Except the plague muster call, but nobody here is taking that one… Which one would suit them best, I wonder?

She took another look at the group and activated [Get Their Measure] while she was at it. Perhaps this mission? They didn’t take it yesterday, but maybe today…

She reached out into a folder, took a mission slip out and held it out. “This job is still here. Sludge-type mole monsters infesting a farm after a mishap with the monster wards. Still reluctant?”

The men grimaced, and their leader snatched the paper from her hand, taking another look at it. “The pay is still the same. Don’t you have another bigger contract like yesterday?”

Marguerite maintained a pleasant smile and nodded towards the Golden Shields, still seated at their usual table. “If you really feel that reluctant, I might go have a word with that lot and see if I can persuade them to take it.”

The armored man snorted. “We both know that lot is useless.”

Marguerite winked. “I can be persuasive. They do one job a week, usually. Time is coming up, and this is the best job we have right now…”

After thinking for a moment, the gruff man grimaced. “…Fine, I’ll take it.”

The [Receptionist] smiled. “Thank you—now do make haste, that mission has been rolling around for a week already and if you don’t hurry—”

The guild’s door suddenly opened with a slam, and Marguerite interrupted her talk. Doors being slammed open… usually meant trouble, or boisterous new hunters. Usually both. Fearing the worst, she hesitantly looked over at the new arrivals.

But still, as she took in the four figures that strutted into the guild, she had to stop for a moment, and stare. For this… did not look like a hunter party.

Four women, all in clothing much finer than hers. Two more unassuming sorts, maybe young [Merchants]? But then the other two… She rubbed her eyes and looked again. No, she wasn’t seeing wrong.

Definitely a [Maid] uniform. A broom and a bucket? And the woman next to her…

There was no mistaking that fine bearing, refined face, and sheer presence. She instantly revised her opinion of the Golden Shields and their leader—that [Gossip] had really been all talk.

Now this was a true noble.

She was still blinking her eyes when she noticed that the four women were marching right at her, past the Ironhounds, to her receptionist’s desk. The Ironhounds almost began to say something, outraged at being cut in line, but one look from the [Maid] silenced them.

The gloomy woman dressed in black slammed her fist on the table, and Marguerite almost jumped up in her chair. She had been so focused on the pretty [Lady], that she had missed the dark-clad woman rushing the desk.

“Sorry, we’re hunters, and we’re in a hurry. Is there news on the muster call?”

Marguerite blinked her eyes. “M-muster call?”

The woman stared, dark eyes growing menacing. “Do I need to repeat myself? Yes, the muster call. The one for the magical plague.”

The [Receptionist] took in a deep breath, looking over the group with new eyes. [Get Their Measure]. She nodded to herself.

Ah, the third and final hunter type. The one she saw most seldom—they didn’t tend to stick around in one place for long.

The ones in it for a cause.

Hands steady, she reached into a drawer, took out a report, and handed it over. “Here’s the latest news. Nothing new has come since the first report.”

The woman cursed, taking the report, and turning to her team. “Damnation. Nothing new here, it’s the same information they published on the first day.”

The [Maid] grimaced. “Are we wasting more time? We could have skipped this town…”

“No, not necessarily,” The woman who had to be a [Lady] said as she scanned the room. All the other hunters froze under her gaze, it just had that sort of weight to it.

“Hunters! Is anyone else here headed toward Biennizze to fight the plague? We could use any movement skills to speed us along, or additional protection on the road!”

“Even horses would be nice,” a messy-haired girl quickly added.

The proclamation sent a shudder through the room, as every single hunter in there looked at the newcomers as if they were insane. Because this sort always was.

“Are you crazy, stupid, or both, miss?” The Ironhounds’ leader growled, taking a step forward. “Work like that will see you infected and dead—or worse! Amateurs like you shouldn’t—”

“Amateurs?” The [Maid] asked, answering his scorn with a piercing glare. She reached back for that bucket, hanging from the broom’s end, which seemed oddly threatening. “Cowards who won’t face one little plague are calling me an amateur?”

The man reached for his blade. “What did you just call me?”

The [Receptionist] paled. Oh no! They’re doing the thing!

Marguerite sprang up from her seat, waving her hands. “Hey! Hey! [Calming Presence]! No fighting! Causing a mess is bad!”

Her words seemed to strike the [Maid] especially hard, and the woman stepped back right away, looking embarrassed. “Oh, sorry miss. Can’t be causing a mess now can I…?”

The [Lady] sighed. “Fayette, let’s just get out. We can make it to the next big town in two days if we really hurry…”

“Alright, alright…”

“…get some food for the road…”

“...I’ve got everything we need…”

Like the whispering of a passing storm, the party’s words gradually faded as they walked out of the guild. Marguerite let out a deep breath, relieved that no disaster had occurred on her shift, and looked back to the Ironhounds.

“You know better than to argue with that sort,” she said, reproving.

The man spat on the floor. “…Whatever. Men, let’s go do this stupid mission.”

Muttering quietly to each other, they too walked out of the guild. Marguerite shook her head.

Hunters. I swear, they’re always causing more and more trouble…

But that last group, four women about her age, headed out to combat a plague… Something in it sparked at her soul. Do I really need to wait around here, in this small town? Maybe with my thesis…

For a moment, she let herself dream of bigger cities, the bustle of a port, and let her mind imagine more figures like that blond [Lady] giving her tasks…

Something tugged at her memory. Wait a minute… wasn’t there that missive from a horserider a few days back…?

[Spark Memory]. She jolted upright, snapping open a cupboard at lightning pace. The letter! Some [Lord] was looking for a [Lady] and the description…

Marguerite felt a skill guide a piece of paper to her hand, and held up the missive with shaking hands, mind in disbelief. Could she really be so fortunate? The descriptions match! It has to be her! What a lucky day, with the reward money I can—

Her thoughts ran to the edge of a cliff as a hint of doubt hit her. Why exactly would a [Lord] be seeking a [Lady], especially one who seemed quite at ease in her current position? One who according to the report was trying to hide away?

Someone brave enough to go face the worst of monsters, a magical plague… Could Marguerite really act against someone like that?

But then… she imagined that pretty face lying dead in a pool of blood, or something even worse…

And she also looked at the monetary reward listed again.

With no further hesitation, she took out a pen and paper, and started to write.

Sorry [Lady], it’s probably better this way.

And so, as hunters set forth on their way, a chase closed in on their trail, very close behind.

But… that was only half of the story.