Two sessions later, three Apprentices could run the iron elementals if Bel and Lee were there to supervise and coach. Managing the quantity of enemies was critical, and the Apprentices took to using the dungeon layout to keep from getting surrounded. With Kane and Quentin also present, they split dungeon duties between the seven of them. The iron elementals were still a genuine challenge, and bashing them to death was tiring. Harvesting the iron and pushing a cart full of ore to the dungeon surface was equally exhausting but far more boring.

To spread the punishment out evenly, Kane and Quentin observed for the iron elementals, and then Bel and Lee took turns partying with the boys on their way to the core and back. The goblin shaman room was still a danger to any Apprentice, but with Bel or Lee watching, the encounter was relatively safe. The repetition of constant field experience drove rapid progress in all of the Apprentices, and Kane and Quentin were no exception.

When Hans left for Gomi, the Apprentices were dragging beds–complete with mattresses and blankets–out of the dungeon and into the nearly complete dormitory. The townspeople working on the structure looked relieved to see they wouldn’t have to handmake a dozen beds and then hump bedding for them up the mountain.

Dungeon rotations were going to be strange for a few months while everyone adapted to the addition of a sizable iron elemental spawn, but the Apprentices had grown accustomed to these kinds of pivots. They didn’t grumble in front of Hans, at least.

As he approached Gomi at dusk, Hans realized he still wasn’t used to seeing Gomi surrounded by a palisade. Without the walls, the mountain town seemed oddly quaint. Most buildings were weathered from years of harsh seasons, but the way the sun beat down on the clearing, with giant green trees and snowy mountains forming the backdrop, felt cozy. Inviting.

With the spiked walls of the palisade, Gomi felt more like a frontier town, one small bastion in an ocean of wilderness, besieged daily by monsters and bandits alike. Hans had experienced that feeling a lot recently, a sort of familiarity tethered to his travels beyond the borders of civilization. Thankfully, Gomi wasn’t a true frontier town, but the walls were an ever-present reminder of the encroaching threat of the outside world.

“I didn’t think you’d make it back tonight,” Olza called as Hans unlocked the front door of the guild hall. “Have you eaten?”

The alchemist approached, a thin sweater wrapped around her shoulders to keep out the light chill that still clung to spring. The breeze blew her black hair across her face.

“I made a quiche. There’s plenty left,” she said.

“That sounds fantastic.”

“I’ll go get it.”

“No, don’t do that,” Hans called as Olza spun to retrieve the dish. “I can handle the walk down the street. Let me drop my bag, and I’ll be over.”

Olza agreed and left ahead of Hans.

Stepping into the empty guild hall brought an odd peace to Hans, like an unburdening. He smiled at the dozens of paintings and drawings his younger students had gifted to their Guild Master, appreciating the dazzle of colors and wide brushstrokes anew every time he saw them. Dungeon diving and training were fun, sure, but a guild hall was a sanctuary.

After he changed clothes and toweled off as much dirt from the trail as he could, he set out for Olza’s potion shop. The town was cloaked in near darkness, the barest tinge of sunset orange lingering on the horizon. The crickets and frogs dominated the night, loud enough to drown out a soft spoken conversation.

“I can warm up the stove if you want,” Olza said. “It’s pretty cold.”

“Cold is fine. I don’t mind it.”

“If you’re sure.”

Hans promised he was and asked if he missed anything interesting while he was up the mountain.

“Just another Gomi spring,” she said. “The kids are pretty excited about your camping trip. Thank the gods I didn’t volunteer to chaperone.”

Chuckling, he asked what she meant.

“Thirteen children out in the woods, and you’re responsible for their safety and their entertainment? I think I’d rather run the dungeon.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Hans said between mouthfuls of quiche. “The trick is to burn them out during the day, get them real tired. There’s a lot less late night giggles and other mischief that way.”

“If you say so.”

“Becky and a few of the parents will be with us. Not like I’ll be wrangling them alone.”

“Still braver than me,” Olza said. “More importantly, how are you?”

Hans said he was fine and relayed the idea Galinda had about donating surplus materials to towns struggling to recover from orc attacks. He wasn’t sure how much they could offer immediately, but the long-term impact could be significant.

“Hans, no. That’s not what I meant. You got the news about Gret and haven’t sat down since.”

“What else can I do? I’d rather stay busy than ruminate on questions I’ll never be able to answer from out here.”

“You could talk about it.”

Hans stilled and stopped chewing. He swallowed and set his fork on the table. “Greed killed Gret,” Hans said. “They rushed the attack on the lich cabal. Leadership worried the liches would destroy their research and records if they had the chance, so the Guild wanted the Platinums in quick.”

“Did Gret know you were against the plan?”

Nodding, the Guild Master said, “Yes, but think about it from his perspective. He was a Platinum-ranked Rogue running with a party of other Platinums, and the plan was backed by the highest ranks in the Guild, the Hoseki Guild Master included. Those are legitimate adventurers with long, successful careers. Some of the best adventurers of all time even.”

“And you’re one Gold-ranked.”

“I’m one Gold-ranked, so I get it. From Gret’s perspective… I mean… It’s hard to fault him. It’s the same with Devon. I can see how I’d start to sound crazy if the greatest adventurers in the world said I was wrong. It doesn’t feel fair to hold that against Gret or against a kid like Devon. In Devon’s case, he took the advice of his heroes and now he’s the strongest adventurer in the world. What does my opinion look like next to that?”

Olza sighed. “I wouldn’t have thought the Adventurers’ Guild would be that political. It’s all very dramatic.”

“Incredibly dramatic. Alchemy isn’t like that?”

“No,” Olza said but hesitated. “Okay, maybe a little. Research in the larger cities can be pretty cut throat, and someone is always bad mouthing someone’s methods or analysis.”

“Probably less death.”

“More of that than you might think, but yes, I’d imagine adventuring would have more life or death stakes.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Olza took Hans’ plate and gave him a cup of tea before pouring one for herself. “I’m sorry about Gret. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t think I’ll do anything,” Hans said with a hint of shame. “It feels like we caught a break. We had seven adventurers visit Gomi in the first month after the pass cleared, and all of them left without incident. If I send a bunch of letters… It’s not worth risking Gomi just to make myself feel better.”

“I promise to drop it after I say this: You’re not good at hiding your emotions. Everyone knows something is bothering you.”

Hans looked at the floor. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone.”

“That’s not it. People worry when they care.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t assume the worst.”

***

“Hey, booger boys,” Hans shouted across the training yard. “Get back to drilling.”

“We weren’t–”

“Harry. Your finger tickled your brain. I saw it.”

Though he kicked the dirt in a brief pout, Harry went back to drilling throws as he was told. Hans watched as twelve children took turns hip tossing one another, a low cloud of dust wisping across the yard like brown fog. The technique was simple: Clinch with your partner, one arm over a partner’s arm while the other arm snaked under the opposite armpit. With a step in and a turn, their partner flipped over their hips and landed with their back in the dirt. The more enthusiastic children threw their partners with such force that their feet pointed straight up into the sky at the apex of the technique.

Hans discouraged that much force, especially when they weren’t familiar with the technique yet. Flopping onto the ground over and over battered the body even when partners attempted to be gentle. Gravity collected its tax no matter what, so sparing your training partner some abuse was good for everyone.

The throw was just a necessary evil, though. The real lesson was teaching the kids how to fall.

“These are the same breakfalls we practiced with solo drills,” Hans said to the class. “Turn away from your trapped arm, and slap the dirt with your free arm. Palm down, extend the same-side leg.”

A fall would never be entirely painless, but with the right technique, an adventurer could hit the ground without breaking a bone or knocking the wind from their lungs. All of the children could breakfall forward and backward as well as to either side when they were practicing on their own. Learning to choose the right breakfall in the blur of getting tossed was the next step in the lesson.

“We need to completely eliminate trying to catch yourself as a reaction,” Hans explained. “Stretching an arm out is everyone’s natural instinct. Too bad it’s a great way to break your arm.”

The lesson would eventually expand to include other types of throws, each designed to familiarize the student with the various sensations that came with flying through the air, so they could pick the right response in the moment. In addition to the various directions of breakfalls, the children would also learn to roll forward or backward out of a throw. If a monster sent you tumbling across a battlefield, turning your head the wrong way could break your own neck.

As important as these skills were for survival, Hans tempered the intensity of the lesson around the realities of teaching throws. Though throws were the focus of the lesson, it was a small fraction of the overall class. An hour and a half of nonstop tosses would leave nearly every student bruised, exhausted, and surly. Furthermore, tired students were more likely to make mistakes, leading to the very same injuries the drills were designed to prevent.

Hans ended the class with a good old fashioned knot race, which always released a hidden reserve of excitement and frenzy no matter how challenging the rest of the class had been. Each child got a length of rope, and when Hans said “go,” they raced to be the first to tie three different knots. Hans changed the type and order of the knots every time they did a race.

The second half of the race was undoing the knots of the person next to you. That part was harder to make fun, but Hans would lose his mind if he had to untie them all himself.

When both races concluded, Hans said, “If you’re going on the camping trip, be here at sunrise tomorrow. We’ll leave shortly after. Be on time and prepared. The Guild has extra equipment for you to borrow, so if you don’t have an item on your list, let me know. When I was your age I had to borrow everything from the Guild, so don’t worry about it if that’s what you need to do.”

To end class, the children formed one line facing Hans. Starting at one end, he went student by student shaking each of their hands. As he did, the line folded so that every student shook the hand of every other, following Hans like a snake doubling back on itself.

When class ended, Hans listened to a few stories about finding cool bugs or doing something impressive on the farm. After brief conversations with parents, he watched the children and their guardians file out of the training yard, each passing beneath the multicolored, hand-painted sign that read “Hans’ Ultimate Training Dungeon.”

Two tusks lingered, however, a husband and wife who arrived last fall.

They introduced themselves and the wife asked, “Is there work at the dungeon we could do?”

Though the Tribe typically worked in advance to have farmland and shelter to offer to newcomers, they didn’t have nearly enough land to give everyone their own farm this year. The influx of refugees was the largest group of newcomers Gomi had ever seen, quickly using up every free plot and cabin the Tribe had available. Building the palisade around the barns helped with that problem by clearing more land for crops, but it was not enough.

When Hans began listing the unpleasantries of dungeon rotations, the wife interrupted him. “We’d be okay living up there full time,” she said. “If we can do that and contribute, it would be pretty perfect for us.”

Hans raised an eyebrow, and the husband spoke. “Our son died in a pogrom. There were fires and… Sorry. What I mean to say is that we like the idea of that solitude. We’ve got no problem with hard work and will gladly earn our keep.”

As soon as Tandis saw the first haul of iron ore, and the tired adventurers delivering it, she had suggested to Hans that they consider bringing more people into the dungeon. She argued that harvesting resources was its own skill, and Hans found that he agreed. He could field dress a deer as well as the next adventurer, but a real hunter, someone like Quentin’s dad Roland, dressed a deer swiftly and without waste. Even the kill itself was designed to preserve as much of the animal’s hide and meat as possible.

Perhaps more importantly, the assistance would make runs safer for adventurers. Tired people made poor decisions, which that day’s class made top of mind, and the demands of the dungeon continued to grow. Another expansion like the iron elementals would be too much to cull and harvest with the same workforce. The iron elementals themselves might already be too much, actually. The Apprentices could manage it for now, but Hans doubted they could do so indefinitely with their current manpower.

“You’d have to go into the dungeon. The work would be hard and potentially dangerous. Anything in a dungeon comes with risk.”

The couple nodded. “We understand,” the wife said. Her husband agreed.

“What would you do in the winter? You just spent a winter living in a dormitory so you know what that’s like. You’d do that again?”

“We would,” the husband said. “But we were hoping to try our hand at building a place of our own. We’d work on it on our own time.”

Thinking about it, Hans didn’t see any downside to having full time residents at the dungeon entrance. A permanent presence, even if it was a small fraction of the dungeon operation, would simplify a great deal of the logistics and make life up the mountain more pleasant for everyone. When people considered a place home, they went to great lengths to care for and improve it. People liked to live in pleasant places, and people preferred to visit pleasant places, so everyone won.

New Quest: Coordinate a plan for dungeon assistants living permanently at the dungeon.

“Your timing is good,” Hans said after thinking. “I’ll need a little bit of time to set it up, but I think this could work pretty well.”

“We’re very grateful, sir,” the husband said.

“You’re helping me more than I’m helping you,” Hans said. “You both should take the adult classes until then. I don’t expect you to be adventurers, but I won’t send defenseless people into a dungeon, even if we think it’s been cleared.”

“Yes, of course.”

Hans wished the couple well and finished cleaning up after the kids’ class. He still needed to pack for tomorrow’s outing. He was far from prepared to spend three days in the wilderness with a gaggle of children.

***

Open Quests (Ordered from Old to New):

Progress from Gold-ranked to Diamond-ranked.

Mend the rift with Devon.

Using a pen name, complete the manuscript for "The Next Generation: A Teaching Methodology for Training Adventurers."

Expand the dungeon with resource-specific monsters for each of Gomi’s major trades.

Decide whether or not to pursue silent walking and snow walking.

Suggest growing mandrake elementals to the dungeon core.

Secure interior dungeon doors without trapping adventurers inside.

Find a way for Gomi adventurers to benefit from their rightful ranks in the Adventurers’ Guild.

Build a rest area in the dungeon to improve adventurer recovery.

Secure a way to use surplus dungeon inventory for good.

Coordinate a plan for dungeon assistants living permanently at the dungeon.