When Hans and Olza heard that Buru, Roland, and Uncle Ed had returned, they found them and their wagon parked at a small pond dug near the lakeshore. A fully grown bronzewood cast shadows across part of the pool.

  Becky and Becki had arrived to greet the group as well. The warthog familiar had only recently found the bravery to come underground and still seemed slightly nervous about her environment.

  Hans didn’t see exactly where Petal came from, but she emerged from the group and bounded toward him–as best a rotund possum could bound–and jumped into his arms.

  “Hey, Petal. Welcome home.”

  She pushed her head into his beard as she chirped. She didn’t make noise. She just pushed air like a quick, clipped whisper.

  Olza looked at Hans incredulously.

  “What?”

  “You two have come a long way,” she observed.

  Looking down at Petal, Hans said, “She sounds jealous, doesn’t she?”

  Petal chirped.

  Hans nodded and looked up. “She says that you shouldn’t feel threatened.”

  “You can’t tell what she’s saying.”

  “But I can understand the sentiment.”

  The alchemist laughed and stepped into the group of returning friends to give each man a hug in turn. “Glad to have you back,” she said.

  “Gomi’s messed with my head,” Uncle Ed joked. “Living aboveground already feels damn strange to me.”

  Roland smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far, but it is good to be home. Any word from the boys?”

  Olza shook her head. “No word. I’m sure they’re having a good time with Bert, though.”

  “I am as well,” Roland replied. “Just think about those three a lot, you know?”

  “I bet.” Turning to Buru, she added, “I checked on the squirrels for you. They’re well.”

  “Thank you, Miss Olza.”

  “The squirrels?” Hans said, joining the group with a lumpy white apocopossum on his shoulder.

  “Miss Olza checked in on our squirrel neighbors while I was away,” Buru answered. “It gave me peace of mind.”

  Hans hadn’t heard about that particular favor.

  “Bothers me too, Hans,” Becky interjected gruffly. “Squirrels like Olza better than me. Can you believe that nonsense? Olza’s great, but me?!”

  Olza shrugged innocently and turned to look at the pool of water. “Tell me about your project. I’ve been excited to see how this works.”

  Becky smiled proudly. “You’re going to be impressed by my boys.”

  Both Roland and Uncle Ed nodded at Buru, encouraging him to explain.

  Red bloomed in the large tusk’s cheeks. “I’m not good at explaining.”

  Uncle Ed raised an eyebrow but stepped in to speak on Buru’s behalf. “Roland and I were mostly laborers on this, so don’t let Buru trick you into believing this wasn’t his doing. But I’ll do my best.”

  After a deep breath, Uncle Ed pointed to two empty barrels lying on their sides. Their interiors had a light gray coating of dried mud.

  “Everything comes back to dirt. If we want fish in our lake, we have to build up all the life that makes it possible for fish to survive, and that starts with mud. We pulled this batch from a small lake. Then with what we’re planting in it–we’ve got algae, cattails, and duckweed–the water will be friendlier for stuff to live in. We’ve got water beetles, snails, freshwater clams, and worms to add. We just got the mud in, though, and only started on the plants. Once the dust settles in a few hours, we’ve got a few casks of those little critters to turn loose in here.”

  “And then the fish?” Hans asked. “What kind did you get?”

  “Too early for that,” Ed replied.

  Roland spoke. “Adding fish now is like adding wolves before you got deer. The little stuff needs to thrive for the fish to have anything to eat.”

  Uncle Ed nodded. “And there’s gotta be enough of them that they don’t get hunted to nothing.”

  “That makes sense,” Hans said.

  “The bronzewood will help a lot with this process, I imagine,” Olza mused as she knelt at the water’s edge to look more closely at the little bit of algae floating on the surface.

  “Yep,” Uncle Ed replied. “It’s a shame we can’t use more of them in the lake.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “Lots of lake and only so much shore.”

  Olza pursed her lips. “You don’t think bronzewoods would grow in the water? I heard from Buru that would be the plan, scatter them around the lake to keep it strong and healthy.”

  “Acorns can’t sprout in that much water,” Roland said.

  “Right… but is that true for fairywood acorns?”

  Becky laughed. “She got you there.”

  “We disagree on whether or not they will grow,” Buru said, rubbing his chin.

  Hans also remembered the tusk mentioning growing bronzewoods underwater way back when he first proposed this plan.

  “Our lake gets some sunlight, but it could be that it isn’t enough. I was thinking we sink a few Summon Light torches to help with that.”

  “And that would help with the trees,” Olza added, finishing Buru’s thought.

  The tusk smiled and nodded proudly.

  While everyone else continued the excited conversation, Hans stood next to Buru to let Petal rejoin the tusk.

  “This is impressive,” Hans said, almost whispering.

  Buru shrugged. “It might not work.”

  “Even if it takes a few tries, I’d bet you figure it out. Is it too early for me to ask how this project has affected your Druid progress?”

  “I like being this close to the earth. It has taught me a lot.”

  “Like what?”

  Buru thought for a moment and then stepped away from the group. Hans followed, and they stopped after a few yards.

  “Miss Becky is better at explaining,” Buru began. “But a Druid moves plants by understanding plants. Dirt is just as alive, but I didn’t understand it.”

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  Extending a hand, the tusk willed a small section of field to transform into mud. The soil darkened, and the grass twisted as Buru churned the ground to demonstrate his control.

  “What do you mean by understanding dirt?” Hans asked.

  “Miss Becky says nature won’t listen to us unless we listen to it first,” Buru answered. “Best I can explain it is I’ve gotten better at listening to the soil.”

  Hans patted the big tusk on the back. “I’m proud of you. I hope you’re proud of yourself too.”

  Buru smiled sheepishly and dipped his head. “Thank you, Mr. Hans.”

  “Is it unusual for Druids to manipulate earth?” Olza asked as she walked with Hans back to the Association campus. They both had classes to teach. Hans was running a unit on anti-archer tactics for adventurers, and Olza and Shandi were teaching basic biology to children.

  “It’s not, but I’ve never seen a Druid change its state. They move dirt, but it’s the same dirt that’s already there. Buru made mud.”

  “How significant is that?”

  “That’s a good question,” Hans admitted. “I don’t know enough about Druid magic to know if it’s actually something.”

  “By any other standard of magic, introducing a new variable means more complexity,” Olza said. “Even if it’s not unheard of, it’s a sign that he’s improving.”

  “You’re right. That’s always good.”

  “I haven’t known many Druids, but Buru is so different from Becky.”

  Hans laughed. “I think that’s more about personality than their class.”

  “That’s true. His mind is exceptional. We spent two hours talking about tainted treant bark before he left. I’m jealous of his progress, but it’s also been really good for me.”

  “How so?”

  “Recipes with treant ingredients don’t exist, at least none that I’m aware of. Hurting them was always taboo, so working with materials from their bodies was off the table. So analyzing tainted treant feels like starting at the very very beginning. I only know a little bit about treant anatomy, which makes it hard to decide what’s normal and what’s a result of the corruption. Buru had an interesting take there.”

  “With you so far,” Hans said.

  “He said maybe instead of thinking of corruption as an all-consuming force, we should think about it like water moving through a plant. There are several types of flowers, for example, that bloom different colors depending on the pH of their soil. Buru didn’t say pH specifically, but that was the example he used. And that got me thinking about experiments we did in school. If you let a white flower drink water with blue dye, it turns blue.”

  “How does that help?”

  “It’s another lens for analysis,” Olza answered. “It might not lead to anything, but seeing if corruption moves like water gives me a reason to look at things fresh again. And that thinking has already borne fruit elsewhere. Buru’s insight might have saved me months of experimentation.”

  “Really?”

  Olza talked more quickly with each passing syllable and didn’t seem to realize. “Corruption moving like water got me thinking about how plants are said to purify the air and soil. They suck in impurities and then expel something clean. That got me thinking about filters, so I did a bunch of tests on gazer skin and came up with nothing.

  “But I thought some more, and I realized water for a plant is like blood for an animal. If the blood stops flowing, the animal dies. And that’s what’s missing from the shadow scorpion chitin! The real thing always has mana flowing through it. That’s not the case if the scorpion is dead. I’m close to something there. I feel it.”

  “Wow,” Hans said sincerely. “That’s interesting. And all of that came from Buru?”

  “Yep. One Druid sparked all of that.”

  “I will say,” Hans added, “that Buru is different from other Druids I’ve met. It’s like… Druids are in tune with nature, right? They all love it, but when you talk to them, you can see their focus shift to you, like they can’t listen closely and talk at the same time. Buru never stops listening. He is always connected.”

  “I think I see what you mean. Like Mazo. She’s always working on something in her head no matter what she’s doing.”

  “Yes!”

  “What about my head?” Mazo said, approaching the campus entryway to leave as Hans and Olza came in.

  “We were-” Hans began.

  Olza cut him off. “We were talking about Buru’s focus being like yours.”

  “...Like a Druid,” the halfling said, her face falling.

  “Tried to stop you,” Hans said, stepping away from Olza.

  “Oh, come on. That’s not an insult.”

  Mazo scoffed, “That’s like me saying an herbalist and an alchemist are the same thing.”

  “I’m not offended by that…”

  “You should be.”

  Olza held up her hands in surrender. “I apologize for comparing you to a Druid.”

  “Apology accepted. Hans,” Mazo said, turning to address the Guild Master, “before you creep all the way back to the guild hall, wanted to offer you a favor. The herbalist here almost ruined it, but I’m still willing.”

  “What’s the favor?” Hans asked.

  “Dev told me about the Vaglell kids and how they were frustrating you. He also told me he was being a child and avoiding them, and I don’t think it’s fair for you to eat that turd alone. If you want, I can take them on a few runs. Give them a different perspective on things.”

  “Really?”

  “I know. I can’t believe I’m doing this either.”

  “I mean, yes,” Hans said, quickly confirming his answer before Mazo changed her mind. “I would really appreciate that. We were about to start armorback runs in a day or so.”

  “If it's awful, I reserve the right to rescind the favor.”

  Hans laughed. “Yeah, sure. Terms accepted.”

  As Mazo departed, Hans and Olza separated too. He went to the old university gymnasium, while she went to the converted schoolhouse.

  The Leebel’s Rest training room already had the permanent smell of fabric damp with sweat. The facility was kept immaculately clean, at Hans’ insistence, but hours of adventurers moving and sweating in the space soaked into the floors and walls regardless. Olza didn’t appreciate it when he came back to the house smelling like the training room, but Hans found that familiar fragrance comforting. The training room was home.

  “Hello, everyone,” Hans said as he entered. “We’re going to get started in a minute. Everyone needs a shield. Casters too.”

  Once Hans had changed into light training attire, he called for the class’s attention. Spotting the dwarves, he stepped forward quickly to shake Ewan’s hand as a sign of respect before class began.

  “We’re starting a unit on enemies attacking at range. We’ll talk a lot about archers early on, but this will apply to anything that attacks from a distance, so that includes casters and monsters with ranged abilities. Lots of monsters spit, for example. Terry, Master Ewan, may I borrow you?”

  Both stepped forward.

  “The first drill we’re going to do requires three people. Ewan and Terry are going to lightly spar while I orbit the match from a distance. If you imagine me holding a bow, you can see that I have a straight shot at Ewan, but if he-”

  Ewan sidestepped, forcing Terry to turn.

  “Excellent. If he is aware enough, he can put Terry between him and the arrow. Goblins don’t give a shit about hitting one of their own, but the more sophisticated monsters out there, like orcs, will hesitate if there’s too big a risk of hurting another orc. That’s not so much about friendship or loyalty. It’s just bad tactics to kill your own units, and it lowers your own chances for survival.

  “So the drill is Ewan sparring Terry while I walk around the outside. If he leaves an open lane between me and him for longer than two beats, I’m going to yell, ‘Dead!’ The drill doesn’t stop, but that clues you in that you messed up. Also, Terry is trying to hit him this entire time, and getting hit with a sword is just as bad.

  “For the first several rotations, the people playing my role and Terry’s role will fight at twenty-five percent intensity. You’re not easy kills, but you also need to give your partners a chance to adapt to the drill before making it harder. Any questions?”

  None of the adventurers raised a hand or spoke up.

  “Great. Get into your groups of three and listen for my call to rotate positions. Start as soon as you’re ready.”

  The exercise went as Hans expected it would. Students shouted “Dead!” frequently, but over the span of the next ten minutes, that frequency gradually waned. Then he increased the intensity to fifty percent, and the shouts were more numerous than ever.

  Then he called for the class to group back up.

  “You all caught on that movement was the key to this. As soon as you stopped moving, you were in danger. The good news is that this drill is harder than it will be in real life. You’ll likely never encounter a ranged enemy that has the freedom to move all the way around the fight like this. That’s why for the next round of drills, the archer can only move around one half of the circle. If they reach the edge of that half, they have to go the other direction.”

  Hans pointed to a few buckets along the wall.

  “Every archer gets five bean bags,” he explained. “Instead of yelling that they’d be dead, I want you to pelt them with one of those. If you miss or they block it with their shield, the drill keeps going until you’re out of beanbags. And please, aim for the body. A beanbag is a really dumb way to lose an eye.”

  Anticipating the question, Hans spun to face Ewan. “No, I didn’t lose my eye to a beanbag.”

  Ewan bellowed a laugh, and Hans joined him.

  Open Quests (Ordered from Old to New):

  Monitor for independently grown sections of dungeon.

  Complete the next volume (Bronze to Silver) for “The Next Generation: A Teaching Methodology for Training Adventurers.”

  Manage the ongoing establishment of a Hoseki-grade library in Gomi.

  Learn to help your advanced students as much as you help beginners.

  Decide how to manage breeding requests for monsters like mimics and shadow scorpions.

  Relocate the titan bones to the dungeon entrance.

  Offer Diamond quests to Ewan and his party.

  Prepare Bridun and his party for Silver.