“What am I going to do?” Gunther whined as Kane and Quentin felt out the wooden training spears with playful thrusts and swings.

“Do you like monsters?” Hans asked.

Gunther nodded as if the answer was obvious.

“Miss Mazo gave us a bunch of books, and one of them is a bestiary. Would you like to read it?”

“Yes!”

“How is your reading?”

“Galad makes us study a lot. I can read okay.”

“Excellent,” Hans said, looking at Gunthers dirty hands. “I’ll get you the book to read, but promise me you will wipe your hands and be careful with the pages. We only have one copy, and we don’t want Miss Mazo to feel bad when she comes back and sees how we treated her gift.”

Knowing that Gunther’s agreement was no guarantee for the book’s safety, Hans fetched the bestiary as well as a towel, wiping the young tusk’s hands himself before setting the child up at one of the tables in the guild hall.

Returning to the training yard, he started to teach the art of the spear to his two oldest students.

He began by explaining that all of the rules they had learned with the sword and shield still applied with the spear. However, every weapon had its strengths and its weaknesses. A good adventurer took the time to understand their weapon so they could be as effective as possible.

The obvious strength of the spear was its reach. They could strike from a distance, a significant advantage against an opponent using a shorter weapon. That strength, however, was also the spear’s weakness.

“Think like a cobra,” Hans said, pantomiming a snake. “Strike quickly and then get back to position. If you get lazy and leave your spear extended, this could happen.”

He motioned for Quentin to slow thrust at him. Hans parried the spear aside and stepped in, putting the tip of the spear far behind him and leaving Quentin defenseless to whatever attack Hans wanted to use. As soon as an opponent got “inside” of the spear range, the spearman was in trouble.

They started with proper thrusting form, the most common attack they would use with the spear. Kane and Quentin drilled it individually at first, striking nothing but air while Hans adjusted and tweaked hand positioning and footwork. Once their form was significantly better, he handed Quentin a sword.

Kane would thrust, taking a penetration step forward as he did. Quentin would slide back and parry the spear with the sword. Then they switched.

“When you start to spar, your spearhead should always be in motion. Make your opponent afraid to step into your range and keep them guessing. Just like a snake bobbing and weaving until they finally bite.”

With that explanation, he had them repeat the drill, but this time the spear holder would try to fake out their partner, keeping their spear retracted but threatening to strike all over. When they did attack, their partner would have to react quickly with a parry and a backstep.

The older boys went home tired, but as they left the training yard, they talked energetically about what else they could do with a spear and what they might learn next.

Meanwhile, Gunther had done as he was asked. When Hans went into the guild hall to let him know his brother was heading home, he found the boy pinching page corners with the tips of his fingers, like he was holding the end of a spiderleg, turning the page with the care of a surgeon.

Hans thanked him for being so respectful of the book.

Gunther closed the tome. “Harry doesn’t look like a basilisk at all, Mr. Hans.”

***

Hans sat at his guild hall desk, staring at the pouch of gold Mazo left him. Olza roused him from his thoughts.

“You okay?” she asked.

“How many more caravans will we get this year? Before the snow I mean.”

She thought on the question before answering. “I’d guess at least 3. Maybe 4 if the winter is mild, but it would need to be really mild for the merchants to make the trip. They got snowed in one year, and it was a small crisis for everyone involved–the merchants were stuck, and Gomi had several more people and animals to feed and house until the pass cleared.”

The Guild Master nodded, his eyes returning to the pouch.

“What’s on your mind?” Olza pressed.

“Mazo left me some money. I’m trying to decide what I should get for the chapter that could be here in time for winter.”

Sitting on a bench near the desk, the alchemist timidly asked an awkward question. “I noticed you bought a lot of things for the chapter with your own money, but it also seems like you don’t have a lot…”

The Guild Master nodded, answering Olza with no chagrin or discomfort. He didn’t have a problem being open and honest, but the question still hadn’t come.

“Aren’t Gold-ranked adventurers usually pretty rich?”

Hans chuckled. “Usually. I put all of my savings into an investment that didn’t work out. By then, I wasn’t taking jobs anymore, so making it back wasn’t really possible.”

Olza asked what the investment was, eliciting a deep breath from the adventurer.

“Adventurer Academy. I got the idea to open a training facility separate from the Hoseki chapter, something that would be open to anyone who wanted to learn how to protect themselves and also give me a place to offer private lessons.”

“It didn’t work?”

“Utter disaster. I picked up a few regulars, but not enough to pay Hoseki rent. Several people–non-adventurers, regular cityfolk–told me that they didn’t see the point of training with a Gold-ranked when they could take lessons from a retired Diamond-ranked someplace else.”

Between the upfront costs of equipment and his monthly expenses, he burned through the money he earned adventuring, and he never came close to breaking even let alone making a profit. With no other options, he broke the lease and paid the penalty. If he kept holding out, he wouldn’t have had the funds to pay off what he would owe the landlord.

“I’m sorry,” Olza said.

“Don’t be. I learned my lesson, and I don’t live a fancy life. My Guild salary covered the necessities, so I wasn’t homeless or anything.”

“Still. I don’t get why no one would take classes from you. I don’t know how to use a sword, but everyone here has been pretty impressed.”

“Students would rather train at a facility with a Diamond-ranked adventurer on the sign, even if that adventurer left Silvers or lower to teach most of the classes.” Hans shrugged.

Changing the subject, Olza asked what they should do next with their purple flower mystery. Hans wanted to ask Becky to visit where they had found the disintegrated gnoll with more regularity. It wouldn’t be fair to demand that of her, though. He didn’t know what they were, but Becky had other interests in the forest. Still, he could ask nonetheless.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch them sprouting, but that’s my best idea so far. I’ve been thinking on what we could do without access to a library, and I’m still trying to figure that out. Do you have any ideas?”

The alchemist coughed an uncomfortable laugh. “I was thinking of doing more experiments.”

“You want to poke the flower that explodes into obsidian and can disintegrate a victim with a touch?”

“...Yes.”

“Sounds like fun.”

New Quest: Help Olza design new experiments for the purple flower.

***

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“What can I do for you, Guild Master?” Galad asked, moving a pile of dirty clothes from one of two chairs at his kitchen table.

The tusk-touched lived in a humble cabin with only a partial wall between his living area and his bed. For someone so well-respected in the Tribe hierarchy, he didn’t seem to use that position for his own gain. He couldn’t imagine any of the leaders in Hoseki choosing to live this humbly. Even the most ethical leaders enjoyed several benefits from their stations.

But not Galad. Hans respected him even more for that.

Hans sat down. “I wanted to talk to you about the news Mazo shared.”

“The tusks joining the orcs?”

“Yes.”

“Are you worried we are going to turn on you?”

Hans sighed. “I understand the hesitancy, but please don’t assume the worst of me.”

“You’re right,” Galad said, sitting down across from Hans. “You have been very good to Gomi. Distrust is a habit, and we shouldn’t apply that to you.”

“Thank you. I came here to get your perspective. The Tribe has carved out their own corner of the world, and it’s clear everyone worries a lot about something going wrong.”

Galad nodded.

“What’s the plan if something does go wrong?”

He tapped a finger on the tip of a lower tusk with the same unconscious habit as a dwarf might stroke their beard. “I suppose our focus has been on keeping things from going wrong.”

“But if it does?”

“I have to admit, that’s not something we talked about. I think most of us assumed we’d just move on to someplace else.”

“And leave behind all of this?” Hans gestured out the window to the farmlands and cabins that made up the Tribe.

Galad shrugged. “It seems like an obvious oversight now, but I’m ashamed to say that we aren’t prepared. Why do you ask?”

“So I can contribute.”

The tusk stared at the Guild Master for a long minute, pondering the topic and sizing up the human sitting at his table. “Speak your mind.”

Hans asked how tusks heard about the Tribe in the first place. For a well-guarded secret, several families had found their way to Gomi to enjoy the peace Galad’s parents had worked so hard to build. If kids like Kane and Gunther were walking halfway across the kingdom, they had to have heard about the Tribe from someone.

“Not everyone stays here permanently. Just like any other town, people come and people go. I’d say that the people we help tell other tusks about us.”

“How many more tusks could you take in before you exceeded your supplies? Especially in the winter.”

Leaning forward, his elbow on the tables, Galad towered over Hans. He narrowed his eyes, looking down at the Guild Master. He was part perplexed and part curious as to where his guest was taking this conversation. “Educated guess? 15, maybe 20 if we ration carefully. Living on those edges is scary, though. A really bad winter can be deadly if your supplies are only ‘just enough.’”

“If you could take in more, would you?”

Galad answered without hesitation. “Of course.”

Reaching for his belt, Hans untied a pouch and set it on the table. “Mazo left the Tribe a gift. Could you use it to help more tusks?”

With only a glance at the pouch, and no movement otherwise, the tusk asked, “What is the gift?”

“Ten gold.”

The tusk sat stone-still, his gaze boring into Hans. “That’s a cruel joke.”

“It’s not a joke. The pouch is full and the count is right.”

Even then, Galad didn’t move. Hans recognized this type. The tusk-touched and his family spent so much of their lives protecting themselves as well as their brothers and sisters that genuine kindness seemed like an impossibility. No outsider was this nice, and if they were, it was a cruel trick that ended with suffering.

“I understand that we have three or four caravans left before the winter. We can place an order with the next one, and get an expanded stock the month after. I know, I know, Gomi spending 50 gold would be suspicious in its own way. It was pointed out to me that people expect Gold-ranked adventurers to be rich, so I can be your smokescreen.”

The tusk sat back and tapped his fingers on the table, continuing to hold eye contact like an alpha wolf assessing a rival. “We would need to build more shelter. Much more.”

Hans let Galad continue thinking.

“With the right supplies and enough sunny days for building, we could maybe do as many as 30 or 40…”

“I don’t expect you to make this decision now. Like I said, this is a gift for the Tribe from Mazo. She was very taken with her reception here. We have a couple weeks before the next caravan, so think on it. I also don’t have any illusions of my knowing what’s best for your family. Whatever you decide, I’ll respect. If you do decide to take many more in, I’d like to help.”

Pushing his chair back to stand, Hans extended his hand. Galad shook it slowly, as though his thoughts were so heavy that he could move his arm no faster. “You have been good to us in your time here, but I can’t say I understand you.”

“It’s my ploy to get more people in my classes.”

That got Galad to break. The tusk laughed, nodding his approval. “We’ll talk again soon.”

Quest Update: Await Galad’s response to your offer to help.

***

Flipping through the new bestiary, Hans looked for any plant-type monsters that had anything in common with the purple flowers. While he was brooming the guild hall one morning it occurred to him that perhaps they were dealing with a strange mutation of a known species. If that were true, knowing its relative could reveal new insights.

As he went from entry to entry, nothing stuck out. Many of the plant-type monsters built on the survival tactics of venus flytraps and pitcher plants, catching prey to “digest” into nutrients. A great many were closer to plant spirits, but those behaved vaguely like humanoids, like ents and dryads. Those kinds of monsters had a range of demeanors, some being friendly, some being bloodthirsty. And then there was another category of plant monsters, various types of vines that strangled, lashed, poisoned, captured, or lured their victims.

Seeing the entry on the bobcat banyan made him pause. Normal banyan trees had the unique trait of growing more roots and trunks from their branches, making an elder banyan tree a town-square sized network of branches and trunks, like a tree had been dipped in chocolate, its offshoots the various streams of liquid brown melting toward the ground.

He and Devon fought a bobcat banyan at one point. The thought brought a nostalgic smile to Hans’ face. The bobcat banyan killed creatures that neared its root system, using their bodies as fertilizer to continue expanding. To create those bodies, the offshoots that dangled down to the ground all around the core of the banyan could disconnect from their uppermost points, becoming flailing tentacles rising out of the ground. Those tentacles had a row of claws running several inches down from the top that resembled bobcat claws.

That was the story people told, at least. To Hans they seemed more like highly developed thorns, but nobody had asked him before naming the monster.

This particular bobcat banyan waited to attack until the adventurers were within its network of branches. The pair were looking for exotic reagents in the most tropical region of a southern kingdom. Because they were so dense with life, rainforests were more dangerous than an average forest like Gomi’s, but not by much. Two adventurers of Silver and Gold-ranked were more than sufficient to harvest some seeds and bark.

They made the mistake of pushing into the evening on their journey, wanting to cover just a little more ground before they camped. The pair wandered into the range of a bobcat banyan without realizing and fell into an ambush.

“Why are plants mean?!” Devon had yelled when one of the banyan claws sliced his arm.

For some reason, and maybe it was the long day, Hans could not stop laughing at that question. He sliced through woody tentacles with tears in his eyes, wheezing to catch his breath between guffaws. The size of the monster kept attackers away from its core, and since the core could be deeper within its house-sized trunk, chopping through the banyan could take days, even without the tentacles thrashing relentlessly protecting themselves.

So, they fought their way beyond the bobcat banyan’s range, and Hans doubled over, his hands on his knees.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Devon said like a child reacting to a bad dad joke.

“Mean plants?” Hans managed to say with some seriousness, cracking before he finished the ‘s’ in plants.

“I’m just saying. We have neutral plants that don’t do anything to humans, and then we have evil plants that eat humans. Are there friendly plants out there somewhere? Like could I be friends with a plant?”

Holding up a hand, Hans desperately begged Devon to stop. He needed to breathe, but every look at Devon’s face sent him back into hysterics.

Gomi didn’t have monsters like the bobcat banyan. Thinking of Gomi brought Hans’ mind back to the present, which included the news that Devon was lobbying to have him removed from Guild Master. That doused his momentary revelry, driving him to despair.

What would he do if he was removed from the Gomi chapter? He couldn’t imagine returning to Hoseki. Getting fired from this post–a job that no one else wanted to do or had done for years–would be the ultimate embarrassment. Seeing the faces of the people who thought the worst of him, the hints of glee in their eyes when they learned that he had failed spectacularly. Again.

Going back wasn’t an option. Relocating to another small town with an active chapter could yield him a job teaching, enough to shelter and feed him with reasonable comfort, but the echo of happenings in Hoseki were heard far from the capital. Even Theneesa, a former student and now Guild Master of the Mikita chapter, would be difficult to face.

The job of a teacher, in his mind, was to lead students farther than he was able to go. If they could skip the obstacles that slowed his progress, they could do more in less time. What took Hans 100 days to learn, he could teach in 50. That was in part from his training methods, but the result largely came from being open about his mistakes as a young adventurer. If Hans tripped on a particular root, he could warn those coming after him. Simple on its face, but incredibly valuable over years and years of learning.

Seeing a student reach heights that he could not was deeply rewarding and hauntingly heartbreaking. He was so proud of Theneesa for reaching Diamond. She overcame so many challenges and never stopped working, a model student and a model adventurer. Yet, he resented her for succeeding where he failed and then leaving him behind to pursue her own dreams.

They always left. That was part of the job.

But shit was it harder when the people he lifted up punched back down at him.

Hans set aside the book and went upstairs to his apartment, ready to be done with this day.

New Quest: Create a plan for what to do if you are removed from the Gomi chapter.

***

Open Quests (Ordered from Old to New):

Progress from Gold-ranked to Diamond-ranked.

Mend the rift with Devon.

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

Identify the unknown purple flower from Olza.

Don’t forget the beer!

Brainstorm ideas for safe approaches to training on uneven terrain.

Design a winter curriculum.

Await Galad’s response to your offer to help.

Create a plan for what to do if you are removed from the Gomi chapter.