By the time Hans reached the barn for morning training, he felt his focus wobble. The weight of a cinder block pressed into his sinuses, and his body radiated the humidity of a wet summer.

Uncle Ed stepped out of the barn before Hans could go in.

“Hans? Hey, wait.”

“I’m fine,” Hans said. “Just tired.”

“No, you’re worse than that. Turn around, I’m walking you home.”

Hans protested in his mind, a lengthy tirade about his commitment to teaching that doubled as a boast for his own durability, but he didn’t have the strength to resist when Uncle Ed spun him back toward Gomi. In the snow, the walk from Gomi to the Tribe farms took about 30 minutes, yet Hans blinked and he was sitting on his bed in his apartment.

“I’ll let folks know classes are canceled for a few days,” Uncle Ed said.

Hans argued and moved to stand. The farmer held him in place with the strength of his pointer finger. Hans could not overcome Uncle Ed’s unimaginable power. While Hans groaned something that vaguely resembled words, the farmer put a new log on the fire and set two more by the hearth within easy reach for Hans.

“You should get most of the day out of that one,” he told Hans. “You need to sleep, and if you’re awake, drink water.”

The Guild Master felt the soft gust of his head hitting the pillow.

Then black.

***

“Hans. Hey. Hans.” Olza gently shook Hans’ shoulder. “Drink this. All in one go.”

Hans pushed the potion away from his mouth. “Tolerance. Won’t work.”

“Really?”

The Guild Master nodded.

“I guess adventuring would take you to some gross places. How many Cure Disease did you drink a year, roughly? Five?”

He pointed his finger up.

“Eight? Ten? Hans, not more than ten. Twelve?”

Hans grunted a yes.

“You know better. That’s outright irresponsible.”

A cup of water pressed into Hans’ lips and tipped gently. As it pulled away, he said, “Had to be at my best for my party. Can’t let a sniffle be what gets us wiped.”

Olza shook her head. “There’s a flu going around. I filled three orders just this morning. Take it seriously and get your rest.”

“Yes, m’am. I’ll stay in bed. Could you pass me my notebook?”

The alchemist stood and dragged Hans’ desk farther away from his bed. Where he might have been able to lean over and grab an item from the edge before, he would now have to get up and venture across the room. “No,” Olza said.

“You’re a monster.”

“I’ll come back over when I wrap up my work. If I see you’ve been doing anything but resting, I’ll open the taps on your last two kegs and let them flow.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Olza suppressed a smirk. “Try me, Guild Master.”

***

He blinked and Olza was back with a dark purple jar and a fragrant loaf of bread.

“Charlie and Galinda sent this over,” she said. “It’s fresh, and this is blackberry jam. Maybe try eating some bread and see how that feels?”

“I’m fine, really. You don’t have to wait on me like this.”

“You’re not fine,” Olza retorted. “Friends help friends. That’s how it works.”

“Thank you.”

She patted Hans on the shoulder. “Of course. I’ll keep you company for a bit, if that’s okay.”

He nodded.

Pulling Hans’ desk chair nearer to the bed, Olza sat with a book in her lap. “My mom used to tell me stories when I was sick. She used to say that good stories were as good for the body as they were for the soul.” She asked if Hans wanted to hear a story.

He agreed.

Leaning forward, Olza pursed her lips with thought. “I have a good one. Did anyone in town tell you about the rhubarb standoff?”

“I don’t think so.”

“This is my favorite Charlie and Galinda story. The bakery was active at this point, and Charlie gave most of the goods away from the very first day. You knew all of that, but it’s important to the story because Galinda’s favorite food, no contest, is rhubarb pie.

“They got into a giant fight, like Luther would say he heard them fighting all the way out on the Tribe farmland. That big. Apparently, the fight centered around a nude portrait.”

Hans choked on his bread. Several coughs later, his airway was clear, and Olza’s eyes told him she was not joking.

“Galinda painted the portrait. Charlie was the subject.”

While Hans lamented his inability to control his imagination, Olza continued the story, saying how the Tribe hosted a community art show that spring, and Galinda planned and organized the whole thing. The community art show was a regular part of Gomi life, but instead of yearly, it happened on a loose timing of every two or three years. If Olza’s math was correct, this story happened during the third installment of the show.

Charlie had always been supportive, but Galinda liked having her arms around the whole of the event, so the Mayor didn’t need to do much other than spread the word and attend the event himself to show his support.

Galinda was quite proud of that tasteful portrait, but the husband and wife still disputed whether Galinda had the express permission from her husband to submit that particular piece to the show. She maintained she asked, and he said yes. Charlie insisted he would not have agreed to it knowingly and must have been tricked.

The Mayor learned of its inclusion on the day of the art show, when he walked into a busy barn. He scanned, searching for Galinda’s work, and then someone stepped to the side. He saw it. He saw himself. All of himself.

“Charlie walks up to the portrait, takes it off the wall, and walks out. Doesn’t say anything, but his face was redder than a cherry. The fight was bad enough that Galinda went to stay with Galad. Then Charlie did the unthinkable: he refused to give her rhubarb pie until she came home.”

The Mayor baked nothing but rhubarb pie for over two weeks. The whole town smelled like fresh baked pie, and Charlie was so committed to making his statement that he started going door to door asking anyone with canned rhubarb to share with him.

He gave away every single slice every single day. Some say every citizen in Gomi got a piece of rhubarb pie that year, and the feud went long enough that saying so didn’t feel like an exaggeration. Then one day, as they neared a third week of daily rhubarb pie, Charlie overheard two kids talking about how many coppers they had collected from Galinda.

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“She was sending kids in every day to get her a slice of pie. Every day for the entire feud. When Charlie figures this out, he sends the next kid home with a letter asking Galinda to come home.”

“That story was disgustingly cute,” Hans said.

Olza agreed. “They’re so sweet to each other. It’s nice to see that kind of love in the world.”

Hans thought that was a nice observation.

“I’ll tell Galinda you want to see the painting,” Olza said.

***

Time swirled for Hans. Every flutter of his eyelids repeated the sensation of having woken from a nap, unsure if he had been asleep for five minutes or five hours. His bedsheets felt like a bedroll left out in the rain, every layer of fabric sticking to his skin. His flesh ached.

He rolled his head to look around his apartment. Snowflakes fluttered against his window, the deep darkness of a Gomi night behind them. His desk chair was empty. Looking to his couch, he saw familiar dark hair flowing over the armrest.

Calling to Olza, he said, “Golthththa…”

She sat up. “You need water.”

With some help, Hans tipped forward while Olza packed pillows behind him. He leaned back. An exhausting effort for a small amount of movement.

“You’ve been out of it. When you feel up to it, you should take a bath.”

“What?”

“It’s been a few days. You’re pretty ripe.”

Hans attempted to sniff himself, but no air moved through his nose. Given the other context clues, he didn’t doubt Olza’s assessment.

She pulled a thermometer from Hans’ mouth.

When did she put that there?

“I think you broke your fever,” she said, reading the temperature. “Take your time, though. Don’t rush it.”

Giving himself several minutes to gather his senses, he eventually asked, “How long has it been?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Umm,” Hans said, thinking. His face fell. “Naked Charlie.”

Olza forced her lips shut to stifle a laugh. “That was two days ago.”

The Guild Master groaned.

“You did this to yourself. You work too much.”

He couldn’t formulate an argument, but he could eat. A piece of toast slathered in jam sat on his nightstand. Its age was unknown to the Guild Master, but he cared not. His body seemed to rejoice the moment the sweet but sour flavor of blackberries tingled his taste buds. He wanted to eat more quickly, but he lacked the strength to hold his hand to his mouth indefinitely. Every bite was a biceps curl powered by will alone.

“What have the Apprentices been doing?”

The alchemist sighed. “We had a bet on how long it would take you to ask a question like that.” She sat in his desk chair beside the bed. “Everything is fine, but there have been some developments.”

“Tell me, please.”

“Again, nothing bad has happened and no one is hurt. The dungeon grew more gnolls. It was five every few days last I heard.”

Hans bolted upright. “The Apprentices are in the dungeon?!”

Olza pressed him back down into his pillows. “No one is in the dungeon alone. Becky is with them, and she’s looking out for them. She was sure it’s what you would have done and made the call.”

“What I would have done?”

Doing her best to restate Becky’s reasoning, Olza explained that the Druid said that Hans would want the most prepared people watching the dungeon. The Apprentices weren’t at the Iron-ranked level yet–as they had been training for only a brief period–but they had more training than the town guards posted in the cabin. They were the best choice in a bad situation.

The Guild Master agreed with the reasoning. That helped Hans relax.

Becky was right about the Apprentices, and with the dwarf there to lead them, they could handle a few gnolls. The more he worked with the Druid, the more he suspected her true rank was a high Silver, well beyond her current Bronze. Being so far from the founding chapter often meant adventurers like her were a rank or two below what they probably should have been.

When Hans settled, Olza continued her update. With the Apprentices at the cabin, Tandis began to marshal a long-term stock of supplies as well as the manpower to drag it up the mountain trail. Using a conservative estimate of how long before the Apprentices needed a restock, she prepped two timelines: one where Hans had recovered in time to resume leading the operation, and one where he had not and they would have to function without him.

Another plan that is much smarter than what I could have devised.

Gomi had survived a few days without Hans. While being the town’s lone hero had a storybook quality that he found appealing, people were making good decisions without his intervention. Even better, his influence on those people had been relatively brief. He couldn’t take credit for the good sense they already had, but it spoke to how far they could go.

“Thank you for telling me,” Hans said, sincerely.

“You’re not going to do something stupid?”

“I’ll rest.”

Olza approved.

“Can I ask a favor?” Hans asked, slyly.

She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“Can I see the plans Tandis is working on? Just see. That’s all.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She sighed.

***

We’re lucky to have Tandis. So very lucky.

Hans had mustered the strength to move from his bed to his desk. He felt vaguely human again, but he had quite a bit more recovery time ahead. The dungeon called to him. He should be with his students. He wanted to see how the dungeon had grown. Sitting still was difficult for an adventurer. Retired adventurer. Whatever.

Tandis’ plan was thorough. She accounted for twelve months of guarding the dungeon, planning for just-in-time restocks and season-specific gear. The only suggestion Hans added was to include training swords and shields in the next shipment of supplies. Adventurers were guarding the dungeon from now on, so if their training was to continue, it would have to happen at the cabin.

That would take him away from the guild hall indefinitely, which meant canceling kids’ classes. Olza was right. He had to prioritize his focus and save some projects for another day. Kane and Quentin could run a few review sessions in his absence, and maybe Galinda would be open to teaching more art classes.

Olza wasn’t in the room, so Hans was free to retrieve a few books from his shelf. He had a particular quest on his mind.

Active Quest: Draft possible explanations for the nightmares plaguing tusk children.

If he could make headway on even a single theory, he could leave his thoughts with Charlie and Galad. Olza would likely have input also, but Hans assumed she would want to visit the dungeon again as well.

What did they know about the nightmares already?

Only tusk children were affected. Whether or not they were longtime residents or new arrivals didn’t seem to matter. When a child had a nightmare, they were compelled to run, presumably into the woods but that part was conjecture. Where the children intended to go–if there was a destination involved at all–wasn’t known.

The nightmares happened every night and had been for weeks now. If they had a root cause beyond the collective trauma of surviving as a tusk in the kingdom, the source was either persistent or was reactivated each night.

An area of effect ability, like the squonk hopelessness aura, has a range limit.

All of the tusk children lived on the Tribe farmlands, so all of the nightmares happened there. Would a child sleeping in Gomi be affected by nightmares? If they weren’t, then the source of the nightmares must be localized to the Tribe farm.

In that case, they might be dealing with a haunting, a cursed item, a very sneaky monster, or a mage casting a curse with regularity. As awful as any one of those might be, they were solvable, especially if the search area was finite.

If the child still had nightmares… Hans wasn’t sure what source had the range and the power to affect so many individuals across a great distance.

Is it unethical to have a tusk child sleep in Gomi to see if they still had nightmares?

The answer felt like yes, most experiments conducted on children were in that category by default, but they needed a lead, any lead. And the only danger was the child having another nightmare, which would happen on the Tribe farmlands regardless.

Quest Update: Test possible explanations for the nightmares plaguing tusk children.

Maybe Galinda and Charlie could host a sleepover for Gunther?

***

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."

Expand the Gomi training area to include ramps for footwork drills.

Design a system for training dungeon awareness.

Research the history and legends of the Dead End Mountains, more.

Protect Gomi.

Train Gomi adventurers to keep the dungeon at bay.

Design the ultimate strategy for hunting squonks.

Pick a secret passage design for the cabin. Bonus Objective: Make it cooler than a bookshelf door.

Find a partner to move dungeon loot efficiently.

Find a way to share new knowledge without putting Gomi at risk.

Address the deficiency of magery education in the Gomi chapter.

Acquire the tools and knowledge to train trap disarming safely.

Test possible explanations for the nightmares plaguing tusk children.

Investigate the altered dungeon corridor.