The morning after an uneventful dinner with Mayor Charlie–his wife didn’t join them–Hans reviewed his mental quest list. The guild hall itself was in rough shape, and its administrative underbelly was worse. Each chapter was required to keep their own records, tracking how often the town used specific services, which the organization as a whole used to decide how to allocate resources. Those findings were also shared with the kingdom to demonstrate the value of the Adventurers’ Guild.

Part practical recordkeeping. Part political posturing.

New Quest: Reestablish alchemical recordkeeping.

The records for the Gomi Chapter ended with entries from 17 years ago. He hoped that Olza had kept a log of her contributions testing and identifying ingredients for townspeople. The big city chapters used those reports to identify shifts in supply and demand to decide when to raise or lower the cost of goods.

Hans used them to identify teaching opportunities. If several townspeople asked for help identifying the same plant or testing the same ingredient, that gave shape to a gap in local knowledge. When people weren’t sure what plants were safe to eat, dumb accidents usually followed.

The folders for guild jobs–requested, in-progress, complete, or abandoned–were each empty. Had this chapter ever managed quests? According to Mayor Charlie, the sole Bronze-ranked adventurer took care of the rare rat problem and occasional goblin nest, but he suspected that townspeople would ask the adventurer directly for help rather than go through the guild. Nobody saw a point in bothering with the paperwork.

New Quest: Reestablish job-completion and monster-hunting recordkeeping.

Again, these records would be helpful. In other cities, quest logs painted a pretty good picture of the threats and problems plaguing its people. If the records were reviewed and analyzed with regularity, guild chapters could identify trends in monster movements and sightings, a practice that uncovered more than a few nests that may have reached crisis proportions if they hadn’t been discovered.

Knowing the most common threats in the area would also help Hans build his lessons. Learning to fight a giant spider was different from learning to repel a band of feral orcs. If your hometown had problems with one or not the other, well, it was more useful to prepare for the most likely problem. Adventurers needed to know how to fight anything, but a local artisan just needed to get home safely at night.

New Quest: Reestablish community education recordkeeping.

Naturally, the chapter roster, financial records, and equipment inventory were just as incomplete as everything else.

New Quest: Reestablish membership records, financial records, and inventory records.

Real guild chapters had–wait. This chapter was just as real as any other. Thinking like that wouldn’t help anything.

Active guild chapters had staff to manage operations, a resource that many Guild Masters abused to shirk their own responsibilities. Hans had no intention of running the Gomi chapter like that, but he was on his own for the foreseeable future. No team of administrators would appear to free his focus for bigger needs.

Quentin came in from the training yard, covered in grass clippings. “Can I finish after class?”

Hans said that was fine and went outside to teach The Fundamentals of Hand to Hand Combat, expecting to see the same four children from the day before. Instead, the class had grown by three.

Quentin was the oldest of the group, a full head taller than all of the other children but one. The dandelion destroying tusk-touched was back as well. He preferred to be called Gunther, and his older brother Kane joined him. Kane was Quentin’s age but had the boost of tusk genetics to make him imposing even at a young age. The two blonde children from yesterday–Harry and Harriet–were back. Today, they brought their neighbors, Loddie and Chance. These two newcomers showed hints of orcish blood–a green tint to their skin, sharp facial features, and tiny tusks.

Hans made a mental note to talk to Mayor Charlie about Gomi’s tusk-touched citizens. Tusks weren’t exactly rare, but it was uncommon to see so many in one place.

New Quest: Learn more about the citizens of Gomi.

Two adult human men lingered behind the children against the fence. One wore the well-used chainmail of a town guard while the other wore the loose sunbleached workwear of a farmer. The farmer was twice the size of the guard and had the burly belly of a career countryboy. Hans wasn’t sure if they were casual observers or were guardians of one of the children.

“Wow, lots of new faces,” Hans said, assessing his class. “We’ve got a lot of different ages and sizes here, and I bet different skill levels too.”

A few small heads nodded timidly.

“We’re going to start at the beginning so everyone has the same foundation. That will mean some review if you’re more advanced, but I promise you’ll learn something new about your old techniques too.”

Seven children stared back.

“Let’s warm up with a game. Pair up with someone close to your size, and draw a straight line in the dirt with your foot.” Hans drug the tip of his boot across the ground, etching a crude line about 10 feet long. “Quentin, can I borrow you?”

Quentin nodded and stepped out of the group.

“The goal of the game is to get your partner to step off of the line, so start with both feet on the line. As long as you have two feet on the line, you’re in the game. With me so far?”

The children nodded.

“The first thing Quentin and I do is to touch hands as a sign of respect. We might train hard, but that’s all this is: training.” Hans and Quentin slapped hands. “I’m allowed to push, tug, and bump Quentin to knock him off balance. This isn’t a fight, so no punching, slapping, and definitely no biting.”

Hans gave Harry–the snot bubble enthusiast–the “I’m watching you” gesture. The children giggled.

“The first person to step off the line, loses. When that happens, reset and go again. If you haven’t guessed already, you’re going to reset a lot, and that’s the point. Your goal isn’t to win but to get better. Got it? Alright, pair off and let’s get started.”

As Hans walked around to encourage the children, he withheld the urge to coach and correct. Wanting to keep his focus on the class, he asked one of the two adults if they wouldn’t mind being Kane’s training partner. The guard agreed and took up his position at the far end of Kane’s line.

Some children stepped off their line as soon as they started. Some moved slowly, trying to poke and probe their training partners to feel out a weakness. Some were aggressive, relying on speed to snatch a wrist for a quick pull.

Everyone wobbled.

“Everybody pause! Circle up,” Hans called. “Did anyone notice anything that made it easier to keep your balance?”

“Don’t lean too far forward.”

Hans nodded.

“Don’t get grabbed.”

“Also a good one,” Hans praised. “What else?”

Kane, the tusk-touched teen and older brother to Gunther, spoke up for the first time. “Keep your weight low.”

“Very good! Show us what you mean.” Hans waved Kane to step forward to demonstrate, moving reluctantly and awkwardly, as if he hadn’t yet mastered how to wrangle his orc-powered growth spurt.

“Umm. I bend my knees like this so my weight is lower.”

Hans reached out and tugged one of Kane’s wrists. Then he pushed shoulder, attempting to tip him backward. The tusk-touched shifted slightly each time, but his balance was never in danger. “Very good, Kane. Now stand up straight for me.”

Kane did as he was told, and Hans repeated his tugs and pushes. This time, the boy had to immediately step off his line to keep his balance. “See how much of a difference a little positioning can make? I’m bigger than Kane–maybe not for long–and he could easily keep his balance when he had a good base. Let’s go another round.

“This time, try to imagine you’re a pillar. Sink your hips but keep everything in a vertical stack. If your shoulders are leaning out over your front foot, you’re not in a good position.”

Hans clapped and the class resumed. As he helped Gunther and Harriet with their foot positioning–their instinct was to assume a track-runners stance, resting their weight on the toes of their back foot–Hans watched the guard drill with Kane.

The guard was getting frustrated. Kane was almost the same size as the much older guard, and he was immovable. As soon as he set his stance, no amount of pushing or pulling could break his balance. At the same time, the tusk teen’s speed and strength easily bested the guard. He stepped off his line again and again and again.

“Okay, time! No need to circle up just yet. Raise your hand if you stepped off the line less than your opponent. Keyword is ‘less.’”

A hand went up for each pair of training partners. The guard’s sour demeanor locked his face into a scowl.

“Good! If you have your hand up, put that hand behind your back and grab your own belt.”

“What if I’m not wearing a belt?” Chance, one of the tusk-touched newcomers asked.

“That’s fine. Just grab the back of your pants. Everyone got that? Okay, if you had your hand up, you’re only allowed to use one arm, and no switching. The arm you start with is the arm you end with.”

The drills resumed, and as Hans intended, the children who “lost” most of their rounds were now winning a few with their partners limited to one arm. The more advanced students still won several, but the restriction forced them to be craftier and more careful with their movements while providing the other students with a more level training field, enabling them to “succeed” against a stronger opponent.

Meanwhile, the guard made no such improvements. Kane knocked him off the line with nearly every push or pull.

Hans called time and told the class to grab a drink of water before they continued with the rest of the lesson. He watched as they dug bottles out of their bags or took turns at the handpump just outside the fence. He saw some panting and sweat among the students, but no one looked exhausted or frustrated. Good.

“...dumbest drill I ever did see,” the guard whispered, unsuccessfully, to the adult farmhand against the fence. “Figures the Capital would send us their rejects.”

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The farmhand glanced over the guard’s shoulder. The man already looked uncomfortable with the conversation, but when his eyes met Hans’ he seemed to squirm. “It’s a childrens’ class, Terry. Give the guy a chance.”

“I wouldn’t let my kids waste their time here.”

New Quest: Preserve class cohesion by diffusing conflict with the town guard.

With a whistle, Hans called the class back, waving for them to circle around. They did as they were told, forming a loose semi circle in the middle of the training yard. “Before we get out swords, I want to talk a bit about why we are training this way. My job is to prepare you to protect yourselves, your family, and your community. It’s also my job to help you skip the obstacles that slowed me down when I was learning.

“Sometimes you’re going to feel silly in this class. You’re also going to mess up. A lot. If you feel uncoordinated and awkward when we’re practicing something new, that’s a good sign. That means you’re starting to learn. Listen to this carefully: You’re supposed to be bad at this. Everyone starts at zero and builds from there.”

Loddie, Chance’s older sister, blurted, “Even Master Devontes?”

“You’ve heard of Devontes?” Hans looked at the faces around him and saw that they all knew the name of the Platinum hero.

“I heard they are making a new rank above Platinum just for him,” Loddie said. “They say he’s the best warrior to ever live.”

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised Devontes has fans everywhere.”

“Have you met him?” Quentin asked.

“He came up in the same chapter I did. I was Silver when he was graduating to Iron. Got to see him rank up. And, you know what? He did this drill too.”

“Oh that’s a load of troll turds,” the guard grumbled to himself but still loud enough for the rest of the class to hear.

“Do you have a question?” Hans asked.

“No questions. We should be sparring and drilling, with swords, not playing Patty Cake.” The challenge in his voice cast silence across the class and its observers. “This crap won’t help you in a real fight.”

Hans sighed. “That’s fine. If you don’t like the class, please step out of the training yard.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I think so.”

“I challenge you to a duel. Prove you’re not full of it.”

“No thanks,” Hans said, and turned his attention back to the class. He raised a hand to begin teaching but the guard cut in again.

“I said, ‘I challenge you to a duel.’”

“I heard you. The answer is ‘no.’”

A flash of angry confusion crossed the guard’s face. He stepped toward Hans. “What? You got no honor? I knew the guild sent us a coward.”

The levity that had built during the warm-up game faded as the children glanced back and forth between the two adults, unsure of what to do or who to listen to. The youngest of them seemed frightened, any confidence they had built during the drill waning quickly.

“Do you have any idea how often randoms in a town pick fights with adventurers?” Hans asked. “If I’m dishonoring myself or whatever, that’s fine.”

As far as how the guard imagined this confrontation would go, this reaction was not a possibility he had considered. He huffed and stomped. “I insist! Duel me!”

“No thanks.”

The guard’s face reddened.

“You’ve got two choices. You can leave, or you can attack the guy teaching a kids’ class and see what happens. Hurry up and pick one so the rest of us can get back to training.”

The farmer set a hand on the guard’s shoulder. The guard recoiled away from it. With one more look of disgust for Hans, the guard spit and let the training yard gate slam behind him.

Quest Complete: Preserve class cohesion by diffusing conflict with the town guard.

“Sorry for the interruption, everyone,” Hans said, returning his attention to the class. “We’re going to do a chase-and-return drill. That means one person attacks while the other person defends. Then you switch roles and go back and forth like that until I say stop.”

Hans stepped back on his line in the dirt and showed the children how to step forward and backward with proper footwork, making a clean and crisp movement without compromising balance or exposing a vulnerability. They practiced that without swords first, one child advancing while the other retreated, and then they reversed it and shuffled their way back to the other end of the line. Soon, they added training swords to the equation.

Then Hans taught a diagonal overhead strike, a cut aimed at the crease between a person’s neck and shoulder, followed by a back-step parry for responding to the overhead slash. While he talked about the details of the strike, he emphasized footwork, teaching his students to step with an attack to keep the strong column body structure from their first drill intact. The parry was the same idea, but in reverse.

When class ended, everyone was tired, but they followed Hans’ direction for cleaning up without complaint. They wiped down the training weapons, picked up the pebbles that worked their way to the surface during training, and–at Hans’ insistence–shook the hands of every student before departing.

Quentin and Kane lingered, comparing techniques from the class and brainstorming counters and re-counters, while Gunther, Harry, and Harriet picked flowers along the edge of the fence.

When Hans returned from stowing the training weapons in the guild hall, the farmhand stepped forward and introduced himself.

“I’m Ed,” he said, his rough hand swallowing Hans’ when they shook. “I’m sorry about Terry. Sometimes he cares a little too much, and he ends up with his foot in his mouth.”

Hans thanked him but said not to worry. Most towns had four or five Terrys, and they traveled in packs. One grumpy townsperson on his first full day in Gomi was actually better than he expected.

“I appreciate you saying so, but I really do mean it. Gunther came home last night, and I’ve never seen that kid so happy. About anything. All he could talk about was the class he took that day.”

A warm smile lifted Hans’ mood. “That’s great to hear,” he said, looking Ed over carefully, which meant a lot of looking up. Hans was by far the shorter of the two, but Ed was definitely a plain old human, making Hans’ next question a cautious one: “How do you know Gunther?”

Ed looked Hans in the eye before unleashing a bass-filled chuckle. “I’m right next door to the Tribe. There’s probably a property line somewhere but you wouldn’t know it if you came by for a visit. Pretty much always a few tusk kids running around Uncle Ed’s. Oh, that’s me. I’m Uncle Ed.”

“I’m still getting my bearings. Did you say ‘Tribe?’”

“Yeah. You know the tusk farms out toward the mountains?”

When Hans’ face showed no signs of understanding, Ed launched into the long explanation. On the outskirts of Gomi, a community of tusks ran a farm. At first, it was a single tusk-touched family building a life at the edge of civilization, finding peace in obscurity and isolation. That farm slowly became the refuge for tusks all over the country who wanted to be more than mutant oddities living as outsiders, enduring side-eye glances for the rest of their lives.

As word spread–and of those words, none had ever reached Hans’ ears–more and more tusk-touched found their way to Gomi. The farm grew into a sort of co-op, expanding to add fields and cabins as needed. Now the size of the operation was comparable to the size of Gomi itself.

“How have I not heard of this?” Hans asked.

“Do you usually keep up with tusk-touched news?”

“Ah. That’s a good point.”

Quest Update: Learn more about the citizens of Gomi and the needs of the tusk-touched farm community.

“Kane and Gunther walked to Gomi alone from gods know where,” Ed explained. “Kane was half the size he is now and carried Gunther most of the way. Lots of kids like that around Gomi.”

“This feels like something people would talk about. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a tusk community. Every tusk I’ve met was basically a professional loner.”

Ed sighed. “I don’t think that was by choice.”

Ah, yeah. That made sense.

“Maybe leave that out of your reports or whatever? Kids like Gunther and Kane… Well, you know how people can be. They’ve had it hard, and there’s always been a fear that if word got out… Someone with a vendetta against tusks could break up the Tribe.”

Quest Update: Protect the citizens of Gomi and address the needs of the tusk-touched farm community.

Hans said that he understood and promised to respect the privacy of the Tribe. All the Guild cared about was how many townspeople used guild services. Beyond that count, there was no distinction between human, halfing, dwarf, lizardman, elf, or tusk-touched. For the first time, Hans was thankful that standard procedure reduced everyone in their records to numbers on paper.

Ed welcomed Hans to Gomi once again and left to walk Gunther and Kane home, Chance and Loddie joining them a ways down the road. The oldest, Kane, would make Ed look small in a few years. Still, the Uncle Ed moniker seemed to suit the big man. Gunther and Kane weren’t the most rambunctious kids, but it was clear that they loved Ed and enjoyed his presence. The trio seemed to burst into laughter every few seconds, as if Ed was just a big kid himself. Chance and Loddie were less involved, but how they laughed along and kept close to the group suggested that they were likely just shy.

When the road turned and took them out of sight, Hans took in his new home, enjoying the special kind of peace that came after a class concluded. Especially a kids’ class.

Hints of the coming summer heat were in the air. The wind felt a little tired, not the crisp breezes that were common when days started cool and warmed with the passing of the sun. The fragrance of wild flowers was all but gone, and the birds seemed to go quiet when the sun was at its highest, as if they were already avoiding summer heat. Hans would have liked to have seen more of the spring season in Gomi, when most plants were in bloom, but he’d see it next year.

If he was out and about in Hoseki at this time of day, he would have to push and elbow his way through dense crowds just to cross the road. In Gomi, the streets were empty, the town still and quiet.

After one more deep inhale, Hans went back into the guild hall, finding Quentin at one of the tables, reading a book.

“This isn’t a job, you know,” Hans said to the boy.

“What?”

“Trust me, I am thankful for all of your help, but you aren’t an employee. You’re allowed to have a life outside of the training.”

“I can leave. I don’t mean to bother you.” Quentin shut his book and began to stand.

“No, no, no. I’m glad you’re here. I just don’t want you to burn yourself out because you help out around here a lot. I know that, and it’s only my second day.”

Quentin stood uncomfortably in the awkward midway point between standing and sitting. His eyes darted like a nervous deer.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Hans explained. “I’ve seen more than a few Apprentices devote every second of their lives to training. They make amazing progress, but they sputter in the long run. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, as they say.”

Quentin nodded.

Hans put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gently guided him back to his seat.

Well, I read that one wrong.

The first impression Hans had of Quentin was what others might call an overachiever, a young man who seemed to go above and beyond with every single effort. Overachiever never felt like a fair term for that kind of student to Hans. His take was that “overachievers” were just hard workers who didn’t know how to be successful and play it cool.

That impression was wrong, Hans began to realize.

Quentin was a hard worker, yes, but he wasn’t working hard with “being successful” as his main objective. This was a kid who found comfort in the guild, who felt the most like themselves when they were in the training yard or in the guild hall. Anywhere else, they were rudderless, permanently uncomfortable with their own existence. In short, Quentin wanted to find a place he belonged.

Several students like Quentin had taken Hans’ classes in his time with the guild, but his intimate understanding of their feelings came from personal experience. He understood Quentin because he was Quentin at one time in his life.

Hans sat down at the desk in the corner of the hall and leafed through a dusty membership binder. The Gomi chapter produced very few adventurers in its lifetime, and the members he was reading about might not even still be alive. With the age of some of the entries, that was a certainty. Regardless of how old and outdated the files were, he had to get them in order for his own sanity.

He looked up to see Quentin had resumed his focused study of basic potion-craft. “So you’re a fan of Devontes?” Hans asked.

Quentin perked up immediately. “I heard he won the Guild Games without ever drawing his sword. Is that true? Is it true that he bonded with a dragon to ascend Platinum? That’s what I heard. Oh! I also heard he challenged an ettin chief to an arm wrestling match instead of a duel, and won.”

Hans couldn’t help but laugh at Quentin’s unbridled enthusiasm as the boy rattled off every truth, half-truth, rumor, and outright myth ever spoken about the legendary Master Devontes.

“Did you really meet him?” Quentin asked.

“Yep. And, man, I can tell you some stories.”

***

Open Quests (Ordered from Old to New):

Progress from Gold-ranked to Diamond-ranked.

Mend the rift between Hans and Devon.

Complete the manuscript for "The Next Generation: A Teaching Methodology for Training Adventurers."

Clean the guild hall.

Replenish basic adventuring provisions.

Acquire functional training equipment.

Acquire emergency essentials – 6x healing potions, 6x potions of cure poison, 6x potions of cure disease, 3x potions of remove curse, 3x potions of cure petrification.

Reestablish alchemical recordkeeping.

Reestablish job-completion and monster-hunting recordkeeping.

Reestablish community education recordkeeping.

Reestablish membership records, financial records, and inventory records.

Protect the citizens of Gomi and address the needs of the tusk-touched farm community.