Hans began his day with the rising of the sun. Tacking a “be back in time to teach class” note to the front door, he set out in the direction of the tusk-touched farms, the same direction Uncle Ed had gone with Gunther and Kane after training the day before.

Like most frontier towns, the land immediately surrounding Gomi had been clear-cut ages ago as a defensive measure. If someone wanted to attack, they would have to cross a sizable open field, giving the town time to rally their defenses. As far as Hans knew, Gomi had never endured a coordinated invasion. If they did, he was doubtful that Gomi’s meager guard contingent could mount a meaningful defense.

Though the interaction with the guard from the day before was fresh in his memory, his assessment came from practicality. A handful of guards were good for protecting townspeople from each other, but even the same number of Hoseki guards would struggle to defend Gomi. Aside from the limited manpower, Gomi had a single watchtower. No walls. No siege-ready defenses.

The dirt road beneath Hans’ feet rose and fell over gentle hills before entering the Gomi forest. Though the tree cover turned dense quickly, the road seemed well-used and maintained. He saw hand dug trenches strategically positioned to redirect runoff and passed a few potholes that had been stuffed with flat rocks to rebuild the grade, at least somewhat. At this hour, the woods still held a faint morning chill, but the birds flitting through the trees and making distant mating calls didn’t seem to mind.

After a half mile of walking through forest, the road opened into an expansive field. The road itself hugged the treeline, creating a clear division between forest and farmland. The farms themselves weren’t as expansive as the commercial farms shipping goods all over the kingdom, but Hans counted the cabins and barns as he walked. Depending on how they managed the land, this part of Gomi was home to a dozen-or-so family farms of respectable sizes.

Several distant figures worked the fields. Some ran a plow. Some pulled weeds threatening their sprouting crops. Some chopped wood at the treeline behind the farms, presumably stocking up for winter while also clearing room for more farmable land.

He passed two or three farms before his presence was noticed.

“Guild Master Hans!” a child yelled. Hans followed the voice and spotted Gunther running toward him, the knees of his pants thick with dirt from kneeling in the fields.

I didn’t know Gunther was capable of such enthusiasm.

In the two classes he taught with Gunther, the dandelion-destroying tusk child didn’t even laugh out loud and rarely spoke. Seeing him so excited was a surprise, but it was heartening nonetheless.

“Good morning, Gunther.”

“Are you out hunting monsters? I can help!”

“No, not today. I’m just going for a walk, getting to know my new home.”

“Is there still class today?”

“You bet.”

A distant voice called for Gunther. Someone had noticed the boy’s absence and wasn’t about to let him get away with skipping chores. Gunther yelled in response, apologized to Guild Master Hans, and ran toward the voice. Hans followed at a walk, figuring he should take some of the blame for Gunther’s getting distracted.

Gunther’s trail took Hans between spring barley fields. They wouldn’t be harvested until late in the summer, but they were growing well. Hans knew that barley was one of the hardier crop types, and though his knowledge of farming was limited, he knew enough to be impressed. Growing anything in rocky mountain dirt was a challenge, but several years of fertilizer and careful crop rotation built up rich top soil. And the effort seemed to have paid off for the Tribe.

In theory, many regions of the kingdom could become farmable with this process, but it was slow, grueling work. Few had the fortitude to endure multiple seasons of a poor harvest to reach the rewards. Those who did tended to do so out of necessity. They didn’t have the resources to buy better land, but they did have families to feed.

By the time Hans caught up to Gunther, he had passed several other crop types, which he guessed were corn and potatoes. The young tusk rejoined other children pulling weeds between the rows of seedlings. Some of the children were tusk-touched and some were human. Two tusk-touched men worked nearby, pulling rocks from the field and loading them into a wheelbarrow. Uncle Ed had made a quip about property lines not mattering much out here. Seeing multiple families working the land together told Hans that wasn’t an accident. It took serious effort to foster collaboration at this scale.

Hans overheard the end of a reprimand. One of the tusk-touched adults chided the boy for using a water break to hide from chores.

“That was my fault, actually,” Hans called with a wave. “He was on his way back to you and I distracted him.”

At first, the two tusk-touched men tensed at seeing a stranger approaching. Hans saw them shift and tighten their grips on their tools, like warriors reflexively reaching for their swords. One of them favored his orc heritage more than his human heritage, giving him tusks as long as Hans’ pointer fingers and distinctive gray skin. The other orc favored his human heritage, making his orcish traits somewhat softer. Both men had the steely gaze of practiced skepticism. Someone got the drop on them once in their lives, and never again.

“That’s Guild Master Hans!” Gunther yelled, popping back to a standing position while he waved and pointed at Hans.

The tusk men visibly relaxed, for which Hans was thankful. Both had at least a foot of height on him, and they were certainly far stronger. He knew that from the visible size of their farm-built muscle and from having sparred with several tusk-touched adventurers. Despite their size, tusks did not lack agility. Facing a greatsword wielded with the snappy finesse of a rapier was a difficult puzzle to solve, even if the tusk was a lower rank. Gods help you if they get a grip on you.

That was one of the strange things about how tusks were treated in the kingdom. The hateful citizens would never disparage a tusk to their face, but if there was an enemy to be defeated, they suddenly became prized allies, for the duration of the danger at least.

Hans and the tusk with the stronger orcish features extended their hands at the same time and shook.

Oh gods, my hand.

“Hans. Nice to meet you, sir.” He hoped he hid the pain in his voice.

“I’m Galad,” the tusk said before pointing to the tusk next to him. “This is Luther.”

Much to Hans’ relief, Luther did not close the distance to initiate a handshake.

“What can we do for you, Guild Master? Gunny and Kane sang your praises yesterday.”

Hans looked around. No sign of Kane, but then again, he was much larger than the children weeding. He was likely working with adults elsewhere, given his stature.

“That’s very nice of them,” Hans said. “They’ve been good students.”

“Really?” Galad asked with surprise. “Even Gunny?”

“He’s a little rambunctious, but he’s been working hard.”

“He’s a good kid and all, but he doesn’t exactly stay focused. I can tell you without looking that he’s found something else more interesting than weeds and isn’t working.”

Hans looked over Galad’s shoulder. Gunther held a long slimy worm and watched it slink across his open palms.

By Hans’ expression, Galad knew he had called it correctly. “Gunny!” he yelled without turning.

“I’m weeding!”

“Yeah, okay.” Though Galad held a serious tone, his face betrayed the temptation to laugh at the boy’s antics. “What brings you out to the fields?”

“I’m new in town and wanted to be a good neighbor by coming by to say hello. I’m getting the chapter going again, so if you end up needing the Guild for something, let me know.”

“Does that mean you’re working with Becky?” Hans noticed Luther visibly shudder at the name as Galad spoke. “Don’t mind Luther. He’s afraid of Becky.”

“I’ve heard she’s unique.”

Galad guffawed with a bass only possible with vocal chords the length of cello strings. “She’s good people. Treats us well and comes when we need her.”

“We’ve not gotten to meet yet. My job is to support people like Becky, not replace them, so I suspect we’ll be working together somewhat. She seems pretty independent.”

“You’re a sharp one, Guild Master. Some folks try to work against Becky’s personality.” Galad paused, pointing a stealthy finger over his shoulder at Luther. “Doesn’t go well for them.”

Hans nodded. “Understood. We’re on the verge of being gossips, and I’m disrupting your work, but may I ask one more question?”

Stolen story; please report.

“By all means.”

“How might one get their hands on your beer?”

Galad flashed a toothy grin. “Luther,” he said to his work partner. “I’m going to show the Guild Master the barn. Will only be a minute.”

Luther nodded.

“Gunny, don’t eat the worms. They’re good for the soil, and do what Luther says, okay?”

Gunther nodded to Galad and reluctantly returned his collection of worms to the dirt. Galad strode ahead, gesturing for Hans to follow. On their way to the barn, they exchanged small talk about Gomi. Apparently, Galad was one of the original founders of the Tribe–the unofficial name for the collective of tusk-touched–but certainly did not look his age. When Hans thought about it, he realized he had never seen an elderly tusk, or perhaps they aged so well that he simply didn’t know he had.

Pointing to the various fields as they passed, Galad described how the farm looked when he first moved to Gomi. This land had been one small clearing, barely enough room for a cabin and a garden. His brothers and sisters cleared acres of trees by themselves. The children would chop a tree down, and their tusk-touched father would drag it away while they began chopping at the next.

Academically, Hans knew this was a common history for many farms, but looking out over the fields and the cabins tucked between them, he couldn’t picture this land being wooded. They must have cleared a thousand trees or more, a mind boggling amount of work.

“The barn” as Galad called it, was actually three barns built near to one another. According to Galad, this was where they processed the barley, brewed the beer, and stored it in barrels and kegs.

Each barn easily dwarfed any structure in town, the interiors of which were the equivalent of six Gomi chapter guild halls. The processing and storage barns were both nearly empty as the growing season had only begun. Leading Hans into the brewing barn, which was dominated by three massive metal tanks, a surprising sight this far from Hoseki. Gomi must have an exceptionally skilled smith hidden in its hills, Hans wagered.

New Quest: Meet the local blacksmith.

“We actually brew year-round if we can,” Galad explained as they walked by the towering tanks. “We’re trying to decide if we should add another tank or if we should grow something else. We’re getting close to producing more hops than we can use.”

Galad opened a cellar door and disappeared into the ground, emerging a moment later with a dark bottle in his hand. Hans noticed a wax seal on the cork similar to the bottle of vodka Olza had given him.

“You’ll have to let me know what you think,” Galad said, passing the bottle. Suddenly, the tusk seemed nervous. “We should also talk while we have privacy.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I know we’ve only just met, so it’s a bit early for me to be asking a favor of you,” Galad paused, choosing his words carefully. “It would mean a lot to us if you didn’t tell the guild about our farm. I know that’s a lot to ask of a Guild Master, but I still got to ask. We can pay you two gold a month for the kindness.”

“What? Wait. No. No, no, no. I didn’t come by to shake you down.”

“Not suggesting that you were. Just speaking plainly for my brothers and sisters.”

Hans opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally finding the right words. “Also speaking plainly, I don’t want your money. I need that to be clear. There’s no wink-wink nudge-nudge hidden in that statement. Can we agree that part of our conversation is settled and move on to your other points?”

Galad nodded.

“A Guild Master’s job is to ‘serve and advance their community.’ That’s word for word from the Adventurers’ Guild charter. I know there are chapters out there that run themselves like businesses or political entities, but that’s not what they were founded to do. What you described as asking for a favor is really just you asking to do my job.”

Galad didn’t reply. He held Hans’ eyes and thought on the Guild Master’s words while giving him space to continue.

“None of my reports have anything to do with who lives in Gomi. I’m here to swing swords and go camping, not conduct a census.”

“Leave it to children to be the best judges of character,” Galad said with relief. “My little brothers don’t trust easy.”

“Gunther and Kane?”

“Yes.”

“I hope this isn’t rude, but I had been told Gunther and Kane came to Gomi alone.”

“Ah. I see the confusion. All tusk-touched are brother and sister. In a way, we all have the same fathers.”

Quest Update: Learn more about the citizens of Gomi. Bonus objective: Sample tusk-touched beer.

***

Chance and Loddie didn’t return for class that afternoon, leaving Quentin, Kane, Harry, Harriet, and Gunther. Though the class shrank, the audience grew. Uncle Ed was back to support Kane and Gunther, and five townspeople Hans didn’t know joined him. The newcomers struck him as curious parents, but that was a guess.

No member of the town guard was in attendance.

The class began with the balance game, except this time Hans had the children rotate partners every few rounds, encouraging the larger in each pair to win through trickery, not size and strength. Next, the class reviewed the attack and parries they covered previously, drilling each over and over with chase-and-return drills. Then Hans taught two new attacks, a horizontal slash delivered with a fronthand or a backhand, as well as a simple parry to defend against one or the other.

After a water break, Hans told the class that they were going to learn a new kind of training drill today.

“The same person will attack and the same person will defend until I tell you to switch. The attacker will use one of the three cuts we’ve learned. Who can tell me what those are?”

Harriet raised her hand. “Down, right, and left.”

“Those might not be the technical names but we know what Harriet means, and she’s right. Can someone show me the parries we learned to defend against each of those?”

Every child raised their hand. Hans called on Gunther and directed Harriet to attack slowly with one of the three attacks for Gunther to parry. She cycled through each of the three attacks, and aside from a singular stumble, Gunther demonstrated the correct parries for each.

“Very good. Now we’re going to make this more challenging. Harriet is going to pick one of the three attacks–it can be any of the ones we learned–and very slowly attack Gunther. And then Gunther will choose the correct parry.”

Hans had the two demonstrate the drill. Gunther kept up at first, but after four blocks in a row he missed one. The tusk boy deflated, embarrassed to have messed up in front of the class.

“This drill is designed to make you mess up,” Hans said, not looking directly at Gunther but still making sure the boy was listening. “In a fight, you have to make decisions very quickly, and this drill helps us practice how to do that. If you get one wrong, instead of feeling bad I want you to think about what you did wrong. Try to think about what you can do differently next time. I’ll be around to help.”

The class resumed with Quentin partnered with Harry. The much smaller and younger boy advanced on the older boy with the ferocity of a wolverine.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Everybody stop!”

Harry froze mid-swing. Quentin cautiously opened his eyes and relaxed his defense.

“I forgot a part. If your partner is messing up every repetition, slow down your attack. This is how we be good training partners. Slow down. Give each other the chance to practice.”

The drills resumed, and Harry exercised more restraint. Hans stepped in to offer feedback and pointers where necessary, but soon he stood back and let the students train, interrupting only to have them rotate partners.

When Hans glanced over at the audience against the fence, he saw that Mayor Charlie had joined the crowd, and they all talked amongst themselves, seeming to react and comment on what was happening in the class.

“Looks like chaos, right?” Hans asked as he approached.

“To be candid, we were wondering about that.”

Hans looked back at the class. From a distance, the class was filled with hesitation and the occasional yelp from a strike delivered a little too quickly. Every so often, a pair would stop drilling completely to figure out a fix to something they found difficult.

“The traditional way to drill is to stand in a line and repeat the technique over and over until it’s perfect. That’s probably what you picture when you think of a combat class, right?”

The group nodded.

“That kind of training is good for learning a technique, but here’s the problem: What’s next? The most common answer is sparring, right?”

More head nods.

“There needs to be stages in between. Otherwise, you’re only training at two extremes. Either you have no resistance or complete resistance. This drill is part of building those in-between stages. We’re introducing just a little bit of chaos here, moving a bit closer to fully live sparring, but just enough. It’s the walk between crawl and run.

“Learning to make decisions under pressure. That’s part of what we’re doing here. Make sense so far?”

“Yes…”

“The other benefit we get from this controlled chaos is variety. When we learn a technique the traditional way–drilling over and over–we think of ‘perfect’ as doing it the same way every time, right? But that’s never what happens when you apply that technique live. Right now Quentin and Kane are drilling, but if I swapped in for Quentin, would Kane attack in the same way?”

The group hesitated. “Yes?”

“Really? Wouldn’t he adjust his angle since I’m bigger? What about how he manages distance? I’m taller than Quentin, so my reach is longer. If Kane kept the same distance he used with Quentin, he’d miss. For some reason, we expect trainees to make all of these adjustments on the fly. They end up learning this skill by accident in sparring when we should be teaching it deliberately.”

After a long silence, Mayor Charlie spoke. “You’ve put quite a bit of thought into this. A lot of thought.”

“I promise that this method is better on all fronts. They will learn more quickly, they will retain more knowledge, they will perform better under pressure, and it’s safer because the chaos is added gradually instead of abruptly.”

“I can’t say that I have any arguments against your explanation,” the Mayor said, glancing over his shoulder. “The kids seem to be enjoying it, and I can’t think of another time where a newcomer thought so carefully about our town’s needs. I’m not sure everyone will be easily convinced, but I’ll argue in your favor. The least we can do is try it your way.”

“Thank you, Mayor.”

Hans wrapped up class after answering a few final questions from the children. As the children filed out of the training yard, Hans asked Quentin to wait. He had one more question before he could sample Gomi’s finest beer.

“Do you have time to introduce me to the blacksmith tomorrow?”

***

That night, Hans sat in his apartment with a book in his lap, a bottle in his hand, and a content smile on his face.

Bonus Objective Complete: Sample tusk-touched beer.

***

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.

Learn more about the citizens of Gomi.

Meet Becky the druid, Gomi’s only active adventurer.

Meet the local blacksmith.