Forty Years of This [Monster Hunter World]

Chapter 10

The Commander felt a mix of determination and hopelessness as the Admiral gently shut the door behind him. Though the sun had lowered beneath the waves, the gentle light of dusk still filled the window, but it was by candle light that he lifted the first letter off of the end table beside him.

As he began to read the scrawling and wild handwriting, he heard the Tracker's energetic chatter outside of the door with the low growl of the Doctor. The Commander smiled though he didn't have the desire to match that energy or even face it right then. It was warming to know that his friends were so eager to check on him.

But the hall went quiet, and the Tracker didn't bust down his door.

The woman's get-well letter was as wild and as rambling as she was, the Tech Chief's letter was short and distracted, and someone had made a card for the entire first and second fleets to try and sign. It had started as one card, but at some point after half of the first fleet's names being scrawled on it, someone had stitched a second page, and then a third. Out of the letters, it was his most cherished.

There was one letter left under the stack, and when he first read his name on the envelope, he assumed it was from the Seeker. He was addressed in was could have been calligraphy if it'd been written with a slanted pen, but when he opened it the calligraphic handwriting turned into a strange mix of perfect small caps and delicate cursive. Half of a paragraph would be in smudged cursive before suddenly shifting to the small caps, and he realized without reading it that it had been in the Quartermaster's hand.

There were few enough left handed people in the Fleet and even fewer in the command circle. He'd seen that sort of smudging before from left handed friends he'd parted with when he joined the commission, and he imagined the Quartermaster cursing the smudge before twisting his hand into "the claw" and defaulting to his perfect small caps.

Counter to the way the Quartermaster typically spoke, his get well note was long and flowery. For being a man of curt words, it was like an entirely different person was speaking.

By the time he finished re-reading his letters, there came a quiet but audible knock at his door. And before he could answer it, the Quartermaster opened it just enough to sneak in then closed it behind him.

"Oh, good. You're awake." The man hesitated. "The Doctor wasn't allowing anyone in after the Tracker, but I brought you something. Do you mind my visit? I can come back later."

"Going against Doctor's orders, Quartermaster? I didn't think you had it in you. Still, let me see what you've got!" The Commander waved him over. "And of course I don't mind. I wouldn't mind the Tracker either, or the entire fleet."

"Well, you know how the Seeker and I have been trying different plants for different teas?" The Quartermaster took a seat in the chair next to the Commander. "Well, some have had... more interesting flavors than others..."

"You're getting high?"

"Not... Not on duty. No. And not intentionally, but I remembered how you liked the spicy tea, so I made a blend for you. I think you'll like it."

"It's not going to be made from something like Rathian shit, and you surprise me after I say it's good, is it?"

"That would mean I also drank Rathian shit tea. How else would I know its palatable? No, but it does have mandroga and fire herb in it."

"Mandroga? I thought you rarely left Astera. Did the Seeker get it for you?"

"No. He's been rather aloof lately, which is saying something since he's always aloof. Rather, I abused my position and authority as quartermaster to bribe hunters into bringing me what I wanted."

The Commander glowered at the man. "How did you abuse your power, Quartermaster?"

"Don't give me that look. Five years you've known me now, and you should know I would never. If not out of morals then out of the stick so firmly embedded in my ass—"

The Commander snorted hard enough to jerk his body forward, jostling his leg and twisting his expression in pain. In a moment, the Quartermaster's hand was on his shoulder easing him down.

"I'm sorry."

The wave of pain passed, and the Commander relaxed into his bed, but even after, the Quartermaster's hand lingered.

"Don't be." When his hand drifted away, the Commander reached for it, taking it in his own. "Everyone else I've spoken to has given me bad news or made me feel like bad news. I needed that, I needed a friend to be a friend, even if it hurt to laugh."

"You have never been bad news for me, Commander." The Quartermaster squeezed his hand but made no move to pull away. "When I was injured and unable to walk properly on my leg, you made sure I was safe, and then you continued to check on me. That meant more than you may know."

"I'm glad I could—" Another wave of agony struck the Commander, radiating from his leg up his hip and through his side. He stared blankly, his jaw clenching, and his grip on the Quartermaster's hand tightening. When it faded, it was ever present, but he felt like he could breathe again.

He looked back to the Quartermaster about to apologize when the man's expression struck him. The Quartermaster was generally incredibly stoic. His face ranged from mild glower to bone chilling glare, but now there was a sorrow pulling at him. Softening him.

"There are some pains that drugs cannot touch, ████. For those I can offer my hand, and you can squeeze as much as you need. For the rest..." The Quartermaster slid the chair closer to the Commander's bedside. "I will be here as long as you need me."

A tension began to pull on the Commander. Years ago he'd felt it, but it'd faded with the mass of duties and work he'd had to put into keeping Astera afloat and the Commission running. In that quiet moment, on an impulse, he murmured, "What if I need you long after my body has healed?"

"Then," a delicate smile formed on the Quartermaster's lips. "I will still be here."