“Mixed units. Great.” Necia glanced around with a cautious look that immediately set Tulland’s nerves on edge. “Well, at least I’m a blocker. That’s the biggest component.”

“Of… what? Of a party?” Tulland asked.

“Of a party that doesn’t die. There’s classically three components. A blocker keeps enemies at bay, as many as they can. They absorb damage with vitality and armor that would be much more dangerous for someone else, and count on everyone else to do any other work that needs doing.”

“So if it was just you two, you’d hold them back, and he’d sneak around and stab. Or something. You handle the surviving, and he handles the damage-dealing.”

“Kind of. I’m optimized for incredible single target damage after a long period of information-gathering, in terms of seconds spent in a fight. And then I need to rest again or else I become just a faster-than-average melee combatant. You can use me either way, it’s just important to note I have both modes.” Ley narrowed his eyes a bit in concern. “How do you not know this?”

Tulland answered by using The Infinite’s handy contract function. A system screen that encompassed a pretty comprehensive oath popped up in front of them.

Tulland Lowstreet proposes an alliance with the following terms:

1. Ley Raditz, Tulland Lowstreet, and Necia Iroth will share any relevant or requested information about their classes and class function.

2. Information on another member’s class may only be requested if a party truly believes it to be relevant, and may only be withheld if it clearly has no relevance to any immediate or anticipated situation in which a significant risk of harm exists.

3. Each member is bound by the confidentiality agreement until seven days after an official party dissolution.

4. Any member may withdraw from this agreement at any time. The other members will be notified by system message should this occur. No physical actions can be taken by either party to harm the other within three days of the dissolution of the agreement.

Tulland would have been happier with a longer period of confidentiality after the end of the party, but The Infinite simply wouldn’t allow it. Otherwise, it seemed like a pretty acceptable level of commitment.

Ley agreed pretty quickly, and when it was done, Necia looked to Tulland, asking for confirmation that it was okay for her to speak. Tulland nodded and sat back to watch the show.

“Tulland’s not supposed to be here. Not like you or me.” She motioned at his gear. “You haven’t noticed how bad his gear is?”

“I have, I noticed it first thing. I’m an intelligence gathering class. I just assumed it was some plant world’s characteristic armor or something,” Ley answered.

“He’s a farmer. An honest-to-god Farmer class. He fights with plants, just a little, but he’s barely met other classes in his own world. He has no idea what you’re talking about with all this. When he nods, it’s because he thinks he gets it based on context. That’s it.”

Ley’s mouth dropped, and he looked to Tulland again as if he was waiting for laughter to reveal it was all just a joke.

“She’s not wrong. I have a few interesting things I can do, but only just,” Tulland said.

After that, it was a lot of explaining. For the better part of twenty minutes, Tulland tried to loop both Ley and Necia in on everything he could do. Even the heavily armored girl didn’t know every single trick in Tulland’s collection. By the time he had covered his more hurty briars, his more holdy vines, and the exact way his weaponry and armor worked, both of them looked a little perplexed.

“Hey, now, don’t look so confused. I was counting on you to know what to do with all this.” Tulland lifted up one of his briars, which was wobbling in the air as it searched for prey. “I thought you were some kind of thinking class.”

“Yes, well, kind of. But it’s more about how to kill you than how to help you, in terms of what my skill does,” Ley admitted. “As much as it pains me to say it, I think we just have to sort of go for broke here. We’ll get into a fight, see how it goes, and then pivot from there.”

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“And if we get killed in the meantime?” Tulland asked.

“Then we get killed, Tulland. You can’t blame him too much for this. You are literally unprecedented, I think,” Necia said.

“Yeah. Great.” Tulland frowned as he considered this brand-new downside to being himself. “And we are going to be here longer than a few days, right?”

“Almost certainly,” Ley said. “Unless you are much, much stronger than you appear to be.”

“Nope. How I look and how I fight match up pretty well. And in that case, let’s get my battlefield farm dug and planted. After that, we can go find a test case, I guess.”

—

Tulland was 15 years old, and had successfully press-ganged all the other boys into lobbying their teacher for a warfare class. It had been quite the undertaking. He was sure the old tutor would have much preferred explaining the intricacies of tubers, or something along those lines. But for some reason, the tutor had been flexible in this. And Tulland was quickly learning why.

“So I would have a whole army of archers, they can shoot down the enemies before they get close,” Tulland said.

“It wouldn’t work, Tulland,” the tutor responded. “Not against an army that’s well balanced. Archers. Cavalry. Infantry. It’s absolutely necessary that you have each.”

Tulland had been sure that the class would be much superior to the normal fare, and had been quietly devastated when this aspect of the world turned out to be just as deadly dull as all the others.

“I don’t see why.” Tulland drew three bows on his paper, opposite his teacher’s bow, sword, and horse drawings. “I’d have my troops out. They’d shoot yours as they tried to approach.”

“And yet, mine would approach. They would hold their shields high, then cut down your archers. You’d certainly kill more of my troops during their charge than with fewer archers, but as soon as the two forces collided, it would be a one-sided massacre.”

“You are sure?”

“It’s been tried.” The tutor’s it’s-been-tried was a complex statement. He didn’t mean just once. He meant, usually, that it had been tried in several ways at several different historical levels of battlefield technology and on a variety of fields. He would, somehow, know about all of them in a way that would hold up when Tulland checked the books later. “And before you ask, so has just a contingent of armored infantry without other support. It doesn’t work.”

“And why not? If they can survive the arrows.”

“Because nobody is foolish enough to field only archers. The infantry would make a single charge, would arrive diminished by arrows, and would met by the other side’s fresh infantry. To make things worse, a balanced army has cavalry distracting the enemy’s infantry while the archers rain down death. Many men can fight when they see hopes of victory. Take that away, and you get a brittle army.”

“And all cavalry?”

“Well, perhaps that might work. In a sense. You have to remember how expensive cavalry is, Tulland. In some ways, it’s more expensive than double the troops.”

“Then why have it at all?”

“Because… actually, a demonstration might help better. Denlee? You enjoy sport, correct? And you’ve practiced at fists?”

“Yes, Tutor.” Denlee enjoyed sport so much that he was a good half again as heavy as Tulland, despite being more or less the same height. “Two years now.”

“Good. If you wouldn’t mind, stand here as if you were going to fight Tulland. Tulland, face him.” The tutor drew a line in the dust with his cane. “And Denlee, don’t hit him. In fact, keep your arms down, if you could. Tulland? Tell me how you’d hit him. How many different ways you could.”

“Yes, Tutor.”

Denlee dropped his arms in the obedient way of the well coached. Tulland examined him, finding his options were just as wide open as Denlee’s guard.

“I could hit either side of his face. And his nose.” Tulland dropped his eyes. “And I suppose his ribs, or in the center of them. Where it makes you lose your breath.”

“Sternum. Yes. Now, observe. Denlee, please put up your guard.” Denlee did, and Tulland’s confidence in actually being able to hit the other pupil fell substantially. “I see you are beginning to get it. Denlee’s elbows dropped to cover his ribs. His shoulders rose and his chin dropped so that one could block for the other. His hands cover most of the routes from you to his face. You wouldn’t understand without studying fists, but he’s also able to block several points that look open to you with only minimal movement. It’s a good guard, Denlee.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“No thanks are needed. You’ve earned it. Now, Denlee, without actually hitting Tulland, throw light punches. Distancing blows. Yes, that’s right.” Tulland could now hardly see the gaps he thought he could still punch through before. Denlee’s punches weren’t hitting him, but they were close enough to be concerning, and any one of them would bloody his nose. The fear of them was a distracting thing. “You see? From behind his guard, he can menace you further with his punches, and even though he isn’t taking things seriously, he’s paralyzed you.”

“And this would work the same way for archers?” Tulland asked.

“In a sense. If all Denlee did was punch with no regard to his own defense, a similarly skilled boxer would use his defense to gain an advantage against the aggression. If all he did was defend, he’d be cut to pieces by someone else’s offense. They would adjust, you see. And do you know what you need to adjust to someone else’s imbalance?”

“Your own balance.” Tulland’s shoulders slumped. That made a depressing amount of sense.

“Or at least the potential of it. Now, there are variations of that theme, of course. Terrain, weather, and fortifications all play a role. Tomorrow, we will…”