Hans, Tandis, and Olza readied their gear alongside six Gomi citizens, an even split of tusks and humans. Those six were volunteers, their bags stuffed to bursting with provisions to stock the cabin. If Tandis calculated correctly–and Hans was certain she did–they wouldn’t need another shipment for at least a month, at which point they would move a much larger stockpile to the cabin.

Given the weight they carried, talk of building a proper road gained traction. Mayor Charlie was against it at first, as he believed building an easy-to-follow road was not a wise way to hide a secret location. Galinda pointed out that, if their plan worked, no visitors would be suspicious or curious about one dirt road among many. Charlie felt that reasoning was sound and withdrew his complete disagreement. The road was still a risk, but one wagon could accomplish what would take six Gomi citizens on foot. The road might reduce travel time to and from the cabin as well.

Tandis was adamant the road was a necessity.

They had time to argue, though. They could chop down trees just fine in the snow, but clearing the stumps was another matter. A tree’s roots were a challenge under ideal conditions. In frozen ground, they were nearly indestructible. Building the road would wait until spring no matter what was decided.

“Hans,” Charlie said. Hans turned to see the Mayor huffing as he pulled his little legs through fresh powder. When he was close enough, he spoke softly to the Guild Master. “The boy had a nightmare.”

Quest Update: Research non-localized abilities capable of causing nightmares in tusk children.

The Mayor nodded his agreement as Hans cursed. Though he hadn’t explained his rationale in detail to Charlie, he had shared that the absence of a nightmare was the “better” result.

Half the heft of Hans’ bag were the books he wanted to bring. He had gone through them several times already, but another couple reads wouldn’t hurt, especially with no library within three days of Gomi. He could think of nowhere else to look for answers.

“Is Gunther okay?” Hans asked.

Charlie waved away the concern. “Strong boy. We’ll keep an eye on him, and I hear he likes chocolate chip cookies.”

Cookies were not on Tandis’ supply list.

Beer wasn’t either!

Carrying beer to the cabin through snow would be impossible. In that moment, he had no doubt that building a road was the most strategically sound, and perhaps most strategically important, choice the town could make.

***

The smell had physical mass, pushing Hans away from the door the second he opened it. Seven adventurers in a single room, their many days of sweat simmering under the heavy heat of the hearth, produced a memorable odor. From a lifetime spent in training rooms and on the road chasing jobs, he knew the fragrance well. He didn’t enjoy it.

Olza promptly retreated from the door, leaving to claim the first shelter Becky had built for the dungeon, the hasty bushcraft version of a small cabin. She needed no additional motivation to have her own room away from the stench of adventurers, even if she had to tend the fire herself.

The Apprentices and Becky cheered when they saw Hans in the doorway flanked by Gomi citizens carrying several rucksacks full of fresh supplies. Wanting to give the Gomi volunteers a reprieve from the weather, the adventurers climbed down into the pit and gathered where the cave transitioned into dungeon corridor. Buru had to crouch slightly to keep his head from scraping across the ceiling. Chisel did the same.

“Catch me up,” Hans said to the group.

Becky stepped forward to offer a report. “We put down twelve gnolls total. Dungeon grows them every other day, and they always come from that same hallway.”

The hallway Becky identified was the newer passage that branched off near the dungeon core, where they had first seen the gnolls with black fur.

“The Apprentices pulled their weight. Followed orders, kept to tactics. Terry got bit, though. Nothing serious, but he bled a little. It was in the first encounter. Some confusion in the party is all.”

Hans looked at Terry, the town guard turned adventurer. Terry shrugged, a bandage wrapped around his right forearm. The others were a little dirty, but no one else appeared to be injured.

“Done the huntin’ by the book, like you’d want. Only thing different was we rotated who used the wax.”

While that sounded like they shared earplugs among each other–a thought that immediately made Hans’ ear itch from the inside–what Becky meant was that two of the six Apprentices had wax in their ears at any given time, protecting them from the squonks’ aura. The remaining members could hear and react to Becky’s coaching. The system wasn’t perfect, but if Becky needed to shout a warning, someone needed to hear it. After all, she couldn’t jump in front of the party and signal that their formation was off in the middle of a battle.

Hans shook the Druid’s hand. “You did good, Becky.”

“I know.”

The group had little else to share in their debrief as life at the dungeon entrance was uneventful otherwise. When the gnolls and squonks were cleared, they rotated guard duty and passed the time in the cabin. Chisel and Honronk took advantage of the breaks to practice their spellcraft. Chisel was close to mastering Cure Poison, and Honronk had broken through his mental block. He could now cast Nightsight and Summon Light. The Summon Light spell created an orb of light that followed the caster. The Black Mage had improvements yet to make, though. Currently, his orb fizzled back to darkness in under a minute.

Chisel followed the typical progression of a White Mage, at least as far as Hans understood it. Honronk, meanwhile, charted his own path. Light manipulation and Illusion magic in general came much later in the typical Black Mage curriculum. They didn’t have anyone to teach that curriculum, so if they wanted Honronk to advance, they had to accept progress wherever they could find it.

Honronk’s spirits were up at least. Hans hoped he could continue teaching himself until the snow melted, at which point he intended to send a letter to Mazo, asking her advice. He would also place a book order with the merchants to stock every spell guide he could afford.

Buru had also used his spare time to practice his new Druid magic. Neither Buru nor Becky would discuss what that training entailed as it never happened in view of the other adventurers. All of Buru’s lessons happened outside. Despite the mystery, Hans was happy to hear Buru’s skills were developing. At his current pace, Becky predicted Buru could earn his familiar by the summer.

As Rangers, Terry and Yotuli had little to do with their downtime. Sven faced a similar challenge as a Rogue. The three read as much as they could before their focus failed. Terry whittled a boar figurine for his daughter while Yotuli and Sven played cards, if one of them wasn’t on watch that is.

Their last point of business was what happened next. Now that Hans had arrived, Becky would be relieved of her duties, and he would take over managing guard rotations as well as the resumption of their training. For today, they would make camp outside to let the volunteers enjoy the cabin before their return trip began the next morning. The temporary shelter Roland had built for himself, Quentin, and Kane was still in good condition. They could sort it out amongst themselves who got the shelter and who used the tents.

When Hans dismissed the adventurers, he cast a longing glance deeper into the dungeon. He wanted to investigate the corridors Becky had told him about, the ones that reminded her of his footwork training diagrams.

You’re the grownup. Responsibilities first.

Hans turned to follow the Apprentices to the surface but found Terry had lingered behind the rest. He looked distressed.

“Can I talk to you?” Terry asked.

“What’s on your mind?” In his head, Hans guessed that the gnoll bite shook the Apprentice. Those early injuries did that often.

“I’m falling behind the rest of the group. My body just can’t keep up with theirs. I guess age is setting in.” Terry was thirty-five, a full eight years older than the next oldest member.

“You’re seeing how Yotuli fights and worried you can’t match it?”

That was correct, Terry said.

“She’s twenty-two. I’m sorry, Terry, you’re not going to fight like a twenty-two year-old.”

Terry nodded, casting his eyes down to his feet.

“That’s not shameful. Yotuli’s style can’t be your style. The jacket doesn’t fit, so to speak, because it’s the wrong jacket. You need to fight like Terry, the thirty-five year-old. That’s a lesson I screwed up myself. I can’t move like I could in my twenties, but into my thirties I didn’t want to admit that. Fighting like you’re twenty when you’re actually thirty is like using tools wrong… and then everything hurts.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“How would I go about fixing that?”

“Matching your style to your body? The opposite of Yotuli, to be honest. She never stops moving. Fast. Springy. You and I don’t get to fight like that. There’s still room for making your style your own, but think more like a predator stalking prey. It’s not slow. It’s methodical. It’s not conservative. It’s efficient. You’re heavy on your feet until you aren’t. Does that make sense?”

The former guard scratched his beard and ran a hand through his hair. “I think so. If I do that, I won’t slow everyone down?”

Hans argued it would be the opposite. The party would be stronger. Not only would Terry feel more effective, but style variations within a party were preferred. Their styles would match up to enemies in different ways, giving the party one of the most valuable resources of all: options. Every combat choice had its tactical pros and cons. A monster that Yotuli struggled with might be one that Terry found easy to manage, or vice versa.

“You’ll need time to adjust, so don’t be surprised if the next few sessions are a struggle. Give it two or three weeks, though. I bet you’ll feel better about it by then.”

Terry thanked Hans for the advice and followed the Apprentices up the ladder to the cabin.

They’re hitting the right challenges and asking the right questions.

Hans smiled.

***

Sven and Yotuli jogged ahead with wax in their ears. They cleared the squonk room and waited for the rest of the party to catch up. A little ways farther in and they would encounter the next three gnolls, but Hans held the Apprentices back.

The party was too large for this dungeon. The hallways were too narrow and the enemies too few. Working a six-person formation was good practice, but with only five gnolls spawning every other day, that left most of the group with nothing to do but watch. They needed a better system. For today, though, they would clear the gnolls as a group. While Olza studied the dungeon core, the Apprentices could run corridor combat drills.

“Yotuli, I asked Terry to try a different approach today, so pay extra attention to your position. It can be easy to get too far ahead. Honronk, use Prism as the gnolls close the distance. Terry and Yotuli, account for Prism with your timing.”

“How?” Yotuli asked.

Hans shrugged. “You’ll think of something. As for you three,” he said, addressing Buru, Chisel, and Sven, “I know there’s nothing for you to do. We’ll change-up training after today so this doesn’t happen again.”

Terry, Yotuli, and Honronk moved down the corridor as a unit, the Rangers in front, the Black Mage behind. The rest of the group, which included Hans and Olza, followed at a distance.

When the front three neared the turnoff where the three gnolls spawned, they paused several feet from the corner. Terry knocked on his shield, a hollow percussion that carried down the long, vacant hallways of the half-grown dungeon. Hans hadn’t taught the adventurers about luring and manipulating monsters, so Terry either came up with this himself, or he learned it from Becky.

Either way, they were thinking.

Two gnolls stepped into the torchlight, still several paces from the two Rangers in the frontline. Terry and Yotuli waited, holding their formation. The wolfmen snarled and snapped at the air, but the adventurers didn’t move. Yotuli feinted a charging step forward, starting and stopping her momentum in one sudden motion.

The abrupt movement startled and angered the gnolls. They charged down the hallway to face the Rangers. Three feet from the range of Terry and Yotuli’s swords, a wall of rainbow color appeared between the adventurers and the monsters. Everyone on the adventurer side could see through the semi-transparent spell surface, like they saw through a veil that shimmered as it took on every shade in the color wheel.

The gnolls, however, saw a bright opaque surface appear suddenly in their path. They dug their heels, attempting to stop their forward momentum, the sound of dog nails clattering against stone echoing through the dungeon. Sliding toward the Prism wall, neither gnoll saw the swords shoot through the curtain of color and pierce the soft flesh right beneath their sternums.

The beasts gasped weakly as they fell forward, dead before their corpses hit the floor.

As the Prism wall timed out, Terry said, “Still one more. Keep formation.”

The three adventurers stepped over their dead enemies and continued down the corridor. Safely turning a corner in a dungeon was a practiced skill, individually as well as for the group overall. Coordination was key, and Hans had taught none of it yet. Becky might have, so the party was either going to demonstrate what they had learned or how well they could improvise.

A few paces from the corner, Terry held up a hand to signal a stop. He continued to move forward, Yotuli trailing behind with stealthy footsteps. At the corner, Terry paused, and his head bobbed as he silently counted down from three.

Leading with his shield, Terry made a sharp turn, pivoting ninety degrees as if on a hinge. The moment he crossed the line to see down the hallway, a blur of black fur lunged at the Apprentice. The beast thudded against Terry’s shield, and the rattling of teeth and claws against wood filled the hall.

And then it was over. Yotuli easily flanked the gnoll, putting it down with a simple, but quick, thrust.

“Wow,” Hans said, “It’s clear you’ve all been training hard. That was well executed.”

The three adventurers beamed from the praise.

Training on the gnolls had been good for the Apprentices, but he would need to devise a way to vary their training, and soon. Ideally, they’d find a pack of wolves or some other quadruped that would force the Apprentices to deal with threats lower to the ground and to respond to attacks from odd angles. A camahueto would be the perfect training creature, Hans thought. Ranging from large dog to pony in size, a camahueto resembled a bald yak with an oversized unicorn horn growing from its forehead, hooking upward from a wide base like a rhinoceros horn. Camahuetos were tough but simple creatures. Good Apprentice fodder.

That was one of the weaknesses of adventurer training in general. Monsters came in all shapes and sizes along with an uncountable number of potential abilities. Out in the training yard, adventurers trained exclusively against people. The only way for an adventurer to train against monsters was to fight them in the field.

The Apprentices would be well beyond the challenge of a camahueto by the time they could travel to fight one, unfortunately.

“The dungeon is still growing, so resist the temptation to get complacent,” Hans continued, scolding himself as well for allowing his mind to wander. “If you’re in a dungeon, assume that you are always in danger. Stay on guard.”

Terry volunteered to take squonk watch, stuffing wax into his ears and taking a position several dozen yards back toward the dungeon entrance where he could warn the party well ahead of the hopelessness aura. Sven took watch of the gnoll hallway while the remaining adventurers broke for a light lunch: Jerky and bread.

Escorting Olza to the dungeon core, Hans finally saw the unusual hallway Becky told him about.

“What happened to the floor?” Olza asked, looking at a surface that resembled choppy water in a storm, frozen in time.

Hans knelt and ran his hands over the uneven floor. “I drew a hallway like this a while back. It was an idea I had for training dungeon footwork.”

“That is odd that the floor would be similar.”

“Not similar, Olza. This is the drawing exactly.”

The alchemist sighed. “Mysteries seem to follow in your wake. Not answers. Just mysteries.”

The Guild Master shrugged as he stood. “Yeah. I don’t know what to make of this either.”

As the pair continued toward the dungeon core, crossing the wavy, uneven corridor, Hans couldn’t help but mime a few sword drills to feel out the terrain. He tried a simple chase drill, then an angle drill–a circling sidestep around an opponent. The floor worked as intended, forcing him to feel and consider his footing as he moved.

I love it.

Quest Complete: Investigate the altered dungeon corridor.

When the snow cleared, adding this tool to the training yard was top of his list.

When Hans and Olza reached the fissure, Olza lowered herself into the dungeon core room while Hans stayed in the crack. The Guild Master didn’t have any new data to seek or ideas to test, so he was fine being closer to the potential danger of the larger dungeon. The Apprentices were handling themselves well, but he still wanted to be nearby.

Settling in for a few hours of watching dungeon walls, he jumped when Olza called for him seconds after her feet hit the floor. When he called back to ask what she needed, she didn’t reply. He could see her just fine, though. She stood near the dungeon core, her back to Hans.

Hans shimmied down the rope and came up next to Olza. “Are you okay?”

She pointed at the dungeon core, bringing Hans’ attention to the jagged top of the broken sphere. A small smooth crystal, like a tiny pearl, sat amongst the uncountable number of sharp edges.

“Yeah, I’d say that dot is new. I think even I’d remember that detail.”

“Are you intentionally daft?” When she saw by his face that he was not intentionally daft, she frowned and turned back to the core. “Where did you touch the core on our last visit?”

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa–

“That was the spot. Is that dot dungeon core material or is something on the dungeon core?” Hans asked.

“Without taking a chisel to it, I can’t be sure. It does seem consistent with the rest of the core material though.”

Unconsciously Hans began to pace, nearly tripping on one of the dead root bundles.

“What does it mean that blood helped the core grow?”

“I have some guesses,” Olza answered.

***

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.

Research non-localized abilities capable of causing nightmares in tusk children.