Chapter 23 - The simplest solution - Part One

 

I stared at Clarice incredulously and waited for an explanation.

 

Clarice’s cheeks flushed and she glared back at me, “What?! It’s how they handle the big outbreaks in Mornbent!” She insisted defensively, “All you gotta do is tell the army to bring in the siege engines and it will be no problem!”

 

“Clarice...” I sighed and rubbed at my eyes tiredly, “I am not saying it’s a bad idea, but-”

 

“-But nothing!” Clarice hissed, “If you can convince them to start lobbing jugs of alchemist fire at the undead-”

 

“-Then I can pretty much guarantee Hana and her sister will both have a fit!” I growled adamantly.

 

Clarice seemed confused and was about to continue arguing, then she suddenly stopped and kicked angrily at the ground, “Fuck!”

 

“Are you sure fire is the best method anyway?” I asked dubiously, “I saw one of the Rangers shot a flaming arrow into one of the larger undead. It caught fire for about a second and then completely extinguished itself.”

 

Clarice froze and looked back at me in surprise.

 

“I saw it happen,” I insisted.

 

“Fuck...” Clarice crossed her arms and dejectedly glared at the distant gatehouse.

 

A long quiet pause passed between us.

 

“Do you think Hana and her sister will be okay?” Clarice asked quietly, a notable element of regret in her voice.

 

I didn’t answer immediately. Part of me knew full well that Kohana’s chances of ‘recovery’ were slim to none. Setting aside the extent of her disfiguring injuries, which in and of themselves all but guaranteed a negative outcome. Both sisters had lost their entire family over the course of a single day. However, while Hana had been able to direct her distress and emotional pain towards revenge, there was no telling what psychological state her sister was in when she was found and if she could be brought back from it.

 

PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, had many forms. It was actually something of a miracle that Hana hadn’t shown signs of pyrophobia after what she had been through. However, Kohana was likely going to be a different story altogether. There was actually a distinct possibility that Hana might develop additional PTSD symptoms as a sympathetic reaction to her sister’s condition and experiences.

 

“I hope so,” I replied lamely, unable to inject the positive tone to effectively inflate the sisters prospects.

 

Clarice hung her head and nodded, “Expected as much when I found her...” She clenched her fists and thumped them hard into the ground.

 

I understood how she felt. However, where Clarice expressed her pent up horror and disgust with anger, I was more prone towards despondency and depression. It was a cruel irony brought on by the need to keep a cool head in order to provide her treatment. Allowing myself to become angry would result in hasty and poorly thought out decisions, as likely to harm as help. Staying calm and somewhat distanced helped me keep perspective and make objective decisions. However, that same distancing and objectictivity felt...wrong, a sort of betrayal in the face of so much suffering. This in turn opened the way for doubt and depression.

 

It was as if this second life was going out of its way to make sure I was painfully aware of the fact that I would have been a terrible hospice nurse. That I have no tolerance for the suffering of others and the only possible outcome would have been an irreversible descent into suicidal depression.

 

Somewhat desperate to avoid returning to such familiar emotional territory, I dragged my thoughts back to the present and what needed doing. “You know, I think you might be onto something about involving the army,” I commented confidently.

 

Clarice looked up, her expression doubtful and suspicious.

 

“The Archer Class, that’s the one Tobi has isnt it?” I asked pointedly.

 

Clarice nodded, her brow furrowing slightly, “Yeah?”

 

I nodded and rubbed at my chin as I remembered how adeptly Tobi had transitioned from using a bow to using a sling. I couldn’t remember him ever using any active Skills, so it might be weapon or ammunition specific. However, if there was a ‘throwing’ Class of some kind, I had to assume that the method for learning it was almost guaranteed to be linked to how the Archer Class itself was unlocked.

 

For the system to be so pedantic to make both a Swordsman and Spearman Class, rather than just a generic Soldier Class, suggested that there were in fact a great number of Basic Classes the army was deliberately or inadvertently ignoring.

 

“Do you know if Tobi’s Archer Class works with Crossbows?” I asked, wanting to confirm my theory.

 

Clarice slowly nodded, “Yeah, they do...” She narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her brow thoughtfully, “Tobi found it weird too, what are you getting at?”

“There is no Crossbowman Class, is there?” I said, more a statement than a question.

 

Clarice just stared blankly at me for a few moments before seeming to understand what I was getting at. “You want to try and unlock a throwing Class?!”

 

I grinned and nodded, “It seems kind of weird to me that classes can be so specific yet completely unrepresented at the same time,” I explained, “Spearman and Swordsman are incredibly specific, but Archer is unexpectedly limited? It doesn’t make much sense unless there is an underlying reason for it. Granted, it is a little weird that Archer wasn’t just called something like Bowman, but there might be another reason for it that I haven’t been able to think of yet.”

 

Clarice nodded and looked like she wanted to say something. However, Clarice made no attempts to speak no matter how long a pause I gave in order for her to do so.

 

“Clarice wh-oh!” I had yet to witness an oaths restrictions firsthand and was actually rather underwhelmed. While I suspected Clarice may not be allowed to pantomime anything restricted, it was a little confusing that she could so obviously emote her support. As best as I could rationalize, I could only assume that the oath would somehow scale depending on how much the oath was willfully breached.

 

It did give me another idea though. The reason why both Spearman and Swordsmen were ubiquitous across all nations of the continent may be because their training methods and unlocking requirements are heavily transferable or interchangeable. It was certainly the case for Field Surgeons and Hospice Surgeons, both of which shared the same foundations but otherwise held minor specialized knowledge requirements.

 

“Do you think you could try-” I didn’t even get to finish asking the question.

 

Clarice nodded eagerly, leapt to her feet and determinedly headed off towards the training grounds.

 

I still thought it was weird that the army would so readily leave two or more possible Classes gathering dust like that. Sure, an Axeman might be a bit more niche in its practical use than that of a Swordsman or Spearman, but surely it had a somewhat unique skill list that could make up for it in a special squad or something. The same could be said for a Maceman, as lame as the name sounded. It could specialize in breaching heavy armour and breaking bones. Hell, my hypothetical Maceman sounded like it could synergise insanely well with the Deep Orc’s or my own Racial Abilities...Hang on.

 

The two officers had said the martial Classes were retained and taught by the nobility, didn't they? I let out a deep sigh and kneaded my brow. Right, this was starting to make sense. Thinking of nobles taking to the battlefield, an image of a knight bedecked in plate and mail armour. Serving as a sort of light tank on the medieval battlefields of ancient Europe, the most effective weapons at disabling an armoured knight or nobleman, were blunt or capable of delivering a great deal of kinetic force to focused areas. To simplify the range of effective weapons excessively, it would be fair to assume that knights and nobles only had reason to fear maces and heavy axes in close quarters. Moreover, though not as threatening individually, a skilled band of slingers could pelt down a knight just as surely as the goblins had done to me.

 

With an established justification for the absence of three or more Classes, I headed back to the army’s camp for confirmation. If I was right, then it was possible that reversing our current precarious position could be as simple as dedicating a few days to intense training.

 

Just like before, a lone soldier hurried ahead to announce my arrival, while the other soldier remained on watch. While obviously excited by my sudden return, neither of them seemed to suspect anything out of the ordinary.

 

As I had more or less expected, Cpt. Kristof and Lt. Rooke were already waiting for me when I entered the command tent.

 

“Chieftain Tim,” Cpt. Kristof saluted in greeting.

 

Lt. Rooke gave a far more relaxed salute of her own and seemed rather curious regarding my sudden return.

 

“I am sorry, but our superiors have not had time to make a decision yet regarding your request,” Cpt. Kristof apologised.

 

“That’s fine,” I wasn’t expecting them to make up their minds for quite some time yet anyway. “I have another request for you to pass along to your superiors.”

 

Both officers briefly glanced at one another for a moment before giving me their full attention.

 

“What do you want in exchange for the knowledge to unlock the four martial Classes?” I asked bluntly. Honestly, I was expecting one of two outcomes. The most likely outcome was that they demanded a one to one trade in exchange. If possible, I would avoid that option or negotiate them down to a single Basic and Advanced Class. The less likely outcome would be an outright refusal. Either those with the authority to make the deal would feel threatened or otherwise not feel like the trade was worth the risks.

 

“The Surgeons!” Lt. Rooke cried out almost immediately in response, “An agreement can be finalised within the hour if the knowledge to unlock the Surgeon Classes is exchanged,” she clarified with no less intensity.

 

I pretty much figured that would be the case. Realistically, the Surgeon Classes were the most likely to be learned through observation and eavesdropping, so it was actually a good choice for exchange. It was the same general case with Clarice and the Swordsman Class. It was likely a matter of time before she sussed out the others, but we didn’t have the luxury of time and the Spearman Class unlock requirements could help her confirm the existence of the other Classes more quickly.

 

“I would have additional conditions,” I warned, but hurriedly raised my hands placatingly, “In the interests of maintaining standards of care, not gatekeeping knowledge.”

 

“What do you mean?” Cpt. Kristof asked warily.

 

“All potential Surgeons would need to undergo basic tests to make sure they meet minimum standards first. They would also need to commit to the training regimen in its entirety, not just as long as it takes to unlock the Classes,” I explained insistently.

 

Both officers briefly glanced at one another again.

 

“Do you mind if we ask why?” Lt. Rooke asked, seeming a little confused.

 

“Standards,” I reiterated. “Just because you show me how to fire a bow, doesn’t mean I will start hitting targets on my first few tries.”

 

Lt. Rooke nodded appreciatively, “Right, so it is a fixed training schedule to meet basic standards before letting them loose in the field.”

 

“Exactly,” I agreed.

 

“So this exchange would include a training-school provision. Something along the lines of the unlocking information being openly available to pre-selected candidates who meet the screening criteria. But requiring they continue training until the trainer deems them ready...” Lt. Rooke thoughtfully nodded her head as she rephrased the agreement, very likely conforming it to the language she would use in her report. “Would you be willing to teach a small number of volunteers as a show of good faith?” She asked seriously.

 

I nodded but was a little unsure, “I am not sure the Advanced Classes can be unlocked without the Basic Surgeon Class,” I pointed out, wanting to be upfront about the distinct possibility of the agreement being voided by forces outside of my control.

 

“That won’t be a problem,” Cpt. Kristof interjected calmly, “Unlearning Elixirs can be acquired if necessary.”

 

“Unlearning Elixirs?” I asked curiously, even though I more or less guessed at what they were already.

 

“A somewhat expensive potion that removes your Class,” Cpt. Kristof explained helpfully.

 

Despite guessing at its effects earlier, I still flinched as I imagined all my progress disappearing after drinking a cup of glowing liquid. “Does it remove your Class that easily?” I asked anxiously.

 

Cpt. Kristof shook his head, “According to reports, Unlearning Elixirs offer a choice similar to the Class advancement system. You won’t lose your Class unless you accept.”

 

That didn’t seem as bad as I initially thought, but it was difficult to get over the idea of someone using it as a horrifically debilitating poison.

 

Taking a deep breath to calm down, I slowly released it again and considered the potential risks of my next inquiry. Airing on the side of caution, I decided it could wait. If I was right, my latest theory was sure to cause problems with the nobility, and I would rather avoid it if possible. “The Surgeon Classes receive better benefits from high Intelligence and decent Agility and Willpower, so it would be best if you screened your soldiers for the best candidates with that in mind,” I suggested, “And I assume the martial four mostly use Strength, Agility and Toughness?”

 

Cpt. Kristof nodded, taking a scrap of paper and scribbling indecipherable notes on it.

 

“Would you like to wait while we pass along the proposal to our superiors?” Lt. Rooke asked, “Depending on their response, more soldiers may be deployed to begin an offensive against the undead.”

 

“Will they bring siege weapons?” I asked, remembering my earlier conversation with Clarice.

 

“It is very likely that at least light siege weaponry will be deployed to defend our military encampment,” Lt Rooke replied helpfully, “Is there some sort of problem?”

 

I nodded, “If possible, I must insist that widespread and instance fire attacks be avoided unless absolutely necessary.”

 

Cpt. Kristof seemed confused and looked to his subordinate for an answer.

 

Lt. Rooke gave her superior a telling look in return, “This is in regards to one of the liberated prisoners of the Slaver,” she stated while glancing at me from the corner of her eye.

 

A look of recognition flashed across Cpt. Kristof’s face, but his confusion only seemed to intensify.

 

Lt. Rooke gave Cpt. Kristof another look that personally interpreted as, “I will explain later.”

 

Cpt. Kristof dubiously let the subject go.

 

“Will these light siege engines be catapults and ballista?” I asked curiously.

 

Both officers gave me a strange look.

 

“You know, catapults, they throw big rocks? And Ballista are like bigger crossbows?” I insisted awkwardly.

 

Lt. Rooke narrowed her eyes at me a little, her intense scrutinizing gaze pinning me in place. “They will likely send lesser wind-lances and stone-throwers,” she agreed, “How do you know of them?”

 

“Ah...” Evidently, I had overstepped what was considered acceptable and expected knowledge for a dungeon monster. “My friend, Clarice, told me that the army would use siege engines and fire to deal with the undead,” I replied, dodging the question as best I could manage.

 

Lt. Rooke didn’t seem fooled in the slightest, “Chieftain Tim. Do you know how to make siege engines?”

 

Well, that was the real question, wasn’t it?

 

Theoretically, yes. Thanks to a physics and history collaboration project in high school, I knew how to make everything from a basic mangonel to a castle crashing trebuchet. The overwhelming majority of siege technology functioned on the same basic principles. The trick was putting a siege engine together from scratch without the required tools and materials. Knowing I would have to construct a siege engine from memory alone, I doubted I could make one that worked efficiently without multiple attempts to get the fine but necessary details worked out.

 

While I was taking my time thinking through the question, and how best to fudge the truth, Lt Rooke seemed to have come to her own conclusions. “Chieftain Tim? What are you going to do with the four martial Classes?” The look in her eyes made it clear that there was no hope of dodging the question.

 

“Defend Sanctuary,” I replied simply.

 

Lt. Rooke frowned, “Is that all?” She asked, a hint of incredulity in her tone.

 

I shrugged, “Everything I do is to keep Sanctuary safe,” I gave Lt. Rooke a meaningful look in return, “I am not greedy or covetous by nature. All I want is peace and prosperity for my people.”

 

My answer was apparently not what Lt. Rooke had expected. My slip up regarding siege engines had obviously been a red flag of some sort. However, my sincere desire for peace seemed to be at odds with whatever that red flag pertained to, so Lt. Rooke was left unsure how to proceed.

 

“Would you allow humans to live in Sanctuary?” Cpt. Kristof asked suddenly, his earnest question taking both Lt. Rooke and myself by surprise.

 

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, “I already do?” I replied uncertainly. Ignoring the army, for the time being, Clarice, Emelia, Nadine, Tobi, the innkeeper Kirk, his wife Rose and daughter were all trustworthy enough that I fully intended them to stay as long as they wanted.

 

“Ah, I meant...regular humans...” Cpt. Kristof seemed to have lost his nerve and momentum.

 

“Normal humans?” I asked curiously, “Just regular people you mean? Not Adventurers or Soldiers?”

 

Cpt. Kristof nodded.

 

“Why would regular people want to live in a swamp?” I asked somewhat incredulously, making a point of ignoring the fact that Cajuns were a thing on earth. “Isn’t it much safer to live in a big city?”

 

Cpt. Kristof and Lt. Rooke shared a rather damning look with one another that made their uncertainty in that regard painfully obvious.

 

The cities weren’t safe? Or was it that they would not be safe for much longer?

 

“Is this because of the Empire and Confederacy’s war?” I asked, fishing for more details and trying to get a better idea of what could so thoroughly undermine the otherwise implacable soldiers' confidence.

 

The lack of a timely response was rather telling.

 

“I don’t think settling large numbers of humans in a swamp is a good idea,” I explained diplomatically, “Large scale terraforming projects are simply not feasible...”

 

“What if-” Cpt. Kristof began to ask but was swiftly interrupted.

 

“-Top Secret!” Lt. Rooke hissed, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

 

“Hrm?” Did the army want me to take more territory? Or did they want me to move? There was next to no chance of the latter. As inhospitable as the swamp was, it served as a natural barrier to most external threats. Presumably, even high level adventurers would still die from dysentery and other diseases, so the swamp was perfect.

 

Besides, regular humans would be a huge liability in the Labyrinth. With nothing but raw stats and determination, there were almost certainly hard limits on what humans could do. That is, unless the Captain simply expected his people to be able to mooch off of the labour of hardworking monsters in order to survive?

 

The knowledge that the Asrus kingdom’s higher command had ‘plans’ for me, and that they warranted a top-secret classification, was unsettling. Even more so when it seemed to involve bringing human civilians into the Labyrinth.

 

I shook my head, “No.”

 

My statement drew both officers' attention away from their silent exchange and back to me again.

 

Cpt. Kristof seemed disappointed, his shoulders slumping somewhat in defeat.

 

However, Lt. Rooke’s curiosity was noticeably piqued, “What do you mean by that?” She asked curiously.

 

“I think mixing civilians and monsters together would be a mistake,” I explained glibly.

 

Lt. Rooke frowned a little but motioned for me to continue.

 

“Well, what exactly would they do all day?” I asked dubiously.

 

“There was some discussion that human workers could fill manufacturing jobs to make more sophisticated goods...” Lt. Rooke admitted a little hesitantly.

 

I raised an eyebrow and sighed for dramatic effect, “Do you think my own people would not be capable of as much themselves?” I asked, making it clear that the passive human superiority stance was a bad hill to die on.

 

Lt. Rooke sighed and shook her head dejectedly, “I suppose not,” she agreed but still seemed to be bothered by something. “You seem more concerned about relatively harmless humans than professionally trained soldiers with Classes and levels. Why is that?”

 

“Discipline and order,” I replied with a heavy sigh, “If any of your soldiers do something...stupid, we can quickly determine who did it and what punishment would be appropriate. However, what if your nephew or niece caused the death of one of my people?” I asked, “Do you think you would be so willing to pass them over for judgement? And what about their parents?”

 

Lt. Rooke hung her head and nodded to show she understood my problem. “This is why your original agreement with the Colonel required near-complete segregation,” she realised, “You didn’t just want secrecy, but security.”

 

She was just about right, so I nodded purposefully in agreement. I actually had been more obsessed over secrecy driven security at the time, but the arrival of the human refugees in the military camp basically made that point moot. If they hadn’t already seen and learned of Sanctuary before their arrival, it would only be a matter of time before an unwitting or unscrupulous soldier confirmed it for them.

 

I already considered it no small miracle that the three largest populations of monsters were getting along so well. With how divisive modern-day ‘race’ politics had been on earth, it was actually somewhat surreal to see such different species cooperate with one another so harmoniously, particularly given how aggressive they had proven to be in combat. As best I could figure, the Serpent-kin, Deep Orcs and Forest Goblins were all in a crisis-induced state of good behaviour, putting aside their minor grievances for the sake of possibly aggravating me and losing favour.

 

Or their good behaviour could be attributed to the Settlement’s laws. Any breach of the laws would immediately mark the individuals responsible. So I suspected that it was quite possible that no one wanted to be the first to break a law and bring shame on their group. After all, each group was originally part of a very tight-knit community and had no doubt had rigorously enforced laws and traditions of their own.

 

Leaving the Captain and Lieutenant to inform their superiors of the new deal on the table, I decided to use my time more productively and went looking for the Forest Goblin Underlords. Getting the older children involved in harvesting the fruits and berries would go a long way towards alleviating the food crisis and I had no excuse not to talk to them about it.

 

To my surprise, I found them both lingering near the training grounds observing Clarice, who was determinedly swinging a Deep Orc axe overhead over and over again with near manic intensity.

 

Skrit and Whisp didn’t seem to notice my arrival until I was just about standing next to them.

 

“Ah!” Whisp hastily bowed and seemed to make a point of avoiding looking at Clarice.

 

Skrit bowed, but his attention returned to Clarice almost immediately afterwards, his eyes intensely following her every movement.

 

“You are trying to learn how to unlock her Class?” I asked curiously.

 

Skrit nodded absently.

 

Whisp paled and looked like a wrinkled child caught with their hand still in the cookie jar, “Ah, Lord said Sunrock learn any Class...” She explained guiltily.

 

I couldn’t help but smile a little as I nodded in confirmation, “Yes, that is what I said and I mean it. Did you ask Gric for a list and description of the available Classes?”

 

Skrit frowned but said nothing.

 

“Wanted to make children work,” Whisp hissed angrily, “Still weak, need rest, not work!”

 

Wait. So they had both walked out on Gric before learning anything about Classes? I sighed and made a mental note to speak with Gric later.

 

“Could you both come with me?” I asked politely, “I want to show you the work I had in mind for the older kids.”

 

The pair of elderly Underlords seemed incredibly reluctant but grudgingly nodded their assent.

 

I motioned for them both to follow me and began walking towards the Druid fields. “I want to be clear. Gric is not in charge of you. You do not have to do what he says.”

 

Skrit and Whisp’s eyes widened in surprise.

 

“However, I frequently delegate through Gric because I trust his judgement. If you do not want to take his advice, I would appreciate it if you would either negotiate a compromise or let me or Hana know if you cannot work things out amongst yourselves, alright?”

 

Skrit and Whisp shared a weighty extended look with one another before they both nodded in agreement.

 

“As Underlords of Sanctuary, you are not just responsible for the Sunrock, but everyone else who calls this place home,” I suspected that part of the pair's reluctance to listen to Gric was a misunderstanding regarding authority, so I wanted to make the situation as clear as possible. “Whether it is Ushu, Lash, Gric or the both of you, my expectations are the same. I expect you to put the collective needs of all our people first. I know it may take some time to build the requisite amount of trust in order to work together with confidence, but I expect you to try.”

 

A long silence passed between us as we walked and I began to worry if perhaps I had only managed to shift their poor opinion of Gric to myself instead.

 

Arriving at the Druid fields, I was impressed by the amount of progress they had made after my earlier request. Large berry bushes and fruit trees had now been grown in long curving rows beginning closest to the wall of trees protecting the Grove.

 

Serpent-kin children were already wandering through the bushes and climbing the trees, laughing and calling out to one another as they excitedly wolfed down everything they could get their hands on. Even though their fangs made it difficult to take a sizable bite from the fruits, getting their mouths stuck seemed to be half the fun for the younger children and some of the older ones looked like they were lining their fangs with berries and smaller fruits on purpose.

 

Besides the Druids, there was at least one adult present and keeping a watchful eye out for roughly every ten children. Every so often, one of the adults would remind the children, or provide encouragement for contributing berries or fruits to the large baskets scattered amongst the trees and bushes. Just as I had told Qreet, my expectation was not for the children to provide efficient labour, but to offset their own daily food requirements.

 

“Do you understand what I meant now?” I asked with a small smile on my lips, finding it difficult to take the situation as seriously as I should with so many children running around laughing and playing with each other. “I don’t want your children to work as slaves, I just want them to socialize and help take care of their own food needs until the undead are dealt with and meat can be reliably returned to everyone's diet.”

 

“Lord!...” Skrit and Whisp had both fallen to their knees, tears welling in the corners of their eyes and snot dripping down their noses. The ability for Goblins to suddenly behave and pass for children was truly an underrated survival skill.

 

“Just make sure to consider things a bit more thoroughly in the future and not just assume the worst of your fellow Underlords, alright?” I backed away as the pair of them began edging closer and reaching for my pant legs. In no mood to wash Goblin snot out of my pants, again, I decided that I would go check on Toofy, Ril and then Gric.

 

Feeling pressed for time, I just stopped by the fountain long enough to let Toofy and Ril know about the fun the other kids were having eating fruits and berries out in the Druid fields. It took very little convincing to send the pair running to investigate. Unfortunately, I doubted either of them would take my warning about stomach aches seriously until it was too late. Which reminded me, I needed to give the Surgeons and porters at the hospital a heads up about that before they were packed to overflowing with kids learning a valuable life lesson on moderation.

 

Having descended the tunnel into the prison, which the Daemons had collectively claimed as their home, I found Gric was already waiting for me.

 

“Anything new to report?” I asked conversationally, not really expecting anything since I had been getting my hands plenty dirty already.

 

Gric’s smile broadened somewhat and he nodded enthusiastically, “Yes Lord! The soulless beasts have been thinning the undead horde since the latest spawning event and the undead have not been reinforced since their initial arrival!” The Daemon was very nearly bouncing on the spot in excitement, “The undead will be destroyed in less than a week, even without armed intervention!”

 

It took a few moments for what Gric said to sink in and once it did I couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh of relief. “You’re sure?” I insisted, “How have you been tracking their activities?”

 

Gric grinned wider and nodded, “Yes Lord! Nahl has been diligently serving as scout and sentry at the gate since the arrival of the horde. His unique progression lies in observation and stealth, and he insists this information is accurate.”

 

Nahl? I tried putting a face to the name but kept coming up blank. I wondered if that was a good or bad thing given the Daemon’s choice in occupation.

 

“We have a deal with the humans that will give us the means to unlock the Scout Class as well as a few other Basic combat Classes. Make sure Nahl knows he will have top priority if he wants it, okay?” The Daemon had earned it and there would be no shortage of benefits for Sanctuary if he accepted the offer and improved his abilities even further.

 

“Of course Lord,” Gric bowed his head obediently.

 

I felt bad about what had to happen next, but it was ripping off a band-aid and would be less painful if I didn’t drag it out. “Gric, there are some things we need to talk about.”

 

Gric’s smile wavered, making it obvious that he had probably guessed what we would be talking about.

 

I raised one hand placatingly to encourage him to stay calm, “Gric, you aren’t in trouble and I am not going to demote you over this.”

 

Gric’s relief was almost palpable, the looming sense of dread having dissipated almost immediately upon learning he would not be demoted. It really drove home how important the promotions and demotions were to the Daemons.

 

“When dealing with the other Underlords, I want you to try and better express your reasons for what you want them to help you with. You can’t just assume they will understand why you want them to put their children to work like that, especially after what they have been through. Do you understand?” I gave Gric a weighty look and could almost see the calculations being made behind his eyes as he tried to readjust his behaviour. “There is something else. I am intending to promote Wraithe to Underlord at the next opportunity. I have already given her additional responsibilities and expect you and the other Underlords to respect her authority relating to those responsibilities. Am I understood?”

 

Gric bowed his head, “Yes Lord.'' He was far sourer than when we first started, but this conversation was better to take place sooner rather than later. Especially if I was going to continue trusting Gric to handle things on my behalf.

 

Spending a half-hour detailing Wraithe’s responsibilities actually cheered Gric up a little bit. I could only figure that it was because her authority was incredibly specific and didn’t interfere with Gric’s comparatively larger but more generalised responsibilities. It didn’t hurt that I hinted that the Lord title that would soon be unlocked would most likely be his, assuming he continued doing a good job.

 

Returning to the training field, there was a rather sizable crowd gathered watching a training bout already in progress. To my horror, it was between Clarice and Lash.

 

Pushing my way through the crowd, my anxiety immediately multiplied tenfold upon realising neither of them were using practice weapons.

 

Although breathing heavily and her body practically soaked with sweat, Clarice doggedly continued her assault, the axe in her hands remaining in near-constant motion.

 

For her part, Lash seemed to be making the most of the edged weapon bout. Despite her substantial size, Lash weaved and parried through every attack she was able, deliberately placing herself in harm's way as some form of heavy armour training. Lash spent only the minimal amount of effort necessary to turn a lethal or heavy strike into a glancing blow deflected by her crude plate armour.

 

The longer I watched the exchange, the more bizarre it became. Neither Clarice nor Lash was actually trying to win, going through a complex and randomly repeated set of exchanges that would draw blood if either party slipped up even a little. Considering how exhausted Clarice looked, I sincerely hoped they would end their session sooner rather than later.

 

Clarice suddenly staggered backwards and dropped her axe as she fell onto her ass, “Gah! Bloody hell!”

 

I pushed through the crowd to make sure she was alright, but to my surprise, Clarice was smiling. “What the hell were you two doing?!” I demanded, my nerves thoroughly shot after watching the exchange for close to half-hour.

 

Lash shrunk back a little and bowed her shoulders.

 

Pulling off Lash’s helmet, I could see she was embarrassed and more than a little worried. I pulled her into a tight embrace, ignoring the hard ridges of her armour as they dug into my ribs and exposed arms. I felt like dragging her back to our room and never letting her out again. To put herself in danger like that...I couldn’t stop shaking.

 

“Tim, it’s alright we were just-” Clarice’s voice caught in her throat as I pulled away from Lash and glared balefully at her instead.

 

Lash said nothing but seemed embarrassed.

 

After a couple of minutes, I had gotten enough time to calm down and realised I was overreacting. “Clarice?”

 

“Yeah?” Already soaked in sweat, Clarice already looked like she had gotten a worse punishment than anything I could justify suggesting.

 

“I don’t want you doing something like that again,” I croaked trying to keep my nerves in check and avoid another angry outburst. “You want to have an edged weapon exercise, you tell me first and make sure you have porters and Surgeons on standby. Understand?

 

Clarice gulped and nodded, “Sure...Sorry, Tim...I was just excited you know?” She smiled weakly and then rapidly lost her nerve, “It won’t happen again...”

 

“Thank you,” I meant it, but my voice sounded cold and spiteful. Unsure what I could do about it, I steered Lash away from Clarice and the crowd so we could talk in private.

 

“You are upset?” Lash asked hesitantly.

 

There were fifty different words that could choose to describe how I felt. However, even though upset didn’t seem nearly strong enough, I nodded in agreement. “The thought of one of you hurting the other...dying...” I couldn’t bring myself to say any more aloud. That the pair of them had managed to avoid significant injury seemed nothing short of a miracle.

 

“Don’t trust us?” Lash asked, a hint of incredulity in her tone.

 

I flinched. “No, I...I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to you...” I insisted evasively.

 

Lash shook her head and narrowed her eyes, “You don’t!” She accused and gave me a hard shove to drive the point home. “Life is hard! Dangerous!” Lash shoved me again, “Danger now makes less danger later! Saves lives!”

 

I knew she was right and felt all the worse for how I had reacted, allowing fear to control me like that...

 

“You-” Lash was interrupted mid accusation.

 

“Lash! Wait!” Clarice had managed to limp her way over and grabbed Lash’s right arm before she could shove me again. “Tim overreacted, but we should have told him what we were planning on doing.”

 

“Was in no danger!” Lash snorted angrily, pulling her arm free of Clarice’s stiff grip.

 

“Tim didn’t know that!” Clarice hissed, squaring up like she was getting ready to take a swing or tackle Lash to the ground, “He isn’t like us!”

 

“Enough,” I croaked, “Lash, I trust you, I just...it doesn’t stop me from being afraid.”

 

Lash paused and calmed down somewhat, “Afraid?”

 

“I don’t want to lose you,” I admitted, “I don’t know what I would do if...if something happened to you...” I shuddered as I considered how badly their sparring match could have gone at any moment. Largely an irrational fear, given Lash’s own substantial natural defences and how they dwarfed Clarice’s relatively poor offensive abilities, it did little to detract from the fact that Clarice had been making very real attempts at landing a fatal blow.

 

Lash quietly stripped off the plates protecting her right arm, “Scratches only,” she insisted in a surprisingly gentle tone, pointing to a trio of scratch marks from where Clarice’s axe had made partial contact past her armour. They were barely deep enough to draw blood at all and showed more signs of bruising than anything else.

 

Even though I now had evidence of her ability to be hurt in training, I was surprised to feel an overwhelming sense of relief. Bruises, minor cuts and scrapes...I had been worried over nothing...Especially when compared to the myriad of larger scars littered across her body. I felt like an idiot and didn’t know what to say.

 

Lash had calmed down and seemed to be at a similar loss for words.

 

“Uh, Tim? We got company,” Clarice’s stiff tone immediately drew my attention. She was pointing towards the army’s camp and the small squad of soldiers headed in our direction.

 

Seeing Lt. Rooke leading three other soldiers I was unfamiliar with but bearing distinctive equipment, I could only assume that her superiors had given the green light on our proposal for exchanging Class unlock information.

 

“What do you think they want?” Clarice asked anxiously.

 

“We made a deal,” I explained as I headed off to meet Lt. Rooke halfway, “Exchanging Class unlock information, The Surgeons for Spearman, Swordsman, Archer and Scout.”

 

Clarice had begun following along behind me, but stopped in surprise, “What?!” She scrambled to catch up, half jogging with a noticeable limp, ‘Have you really thought this through TIm? Those Surgeon unlocks are insanely valuable! Way more than those Basic Classes!”

 

“I know,” I admitted, “But I think they hold the key to unlocking many more, including potential Advanced versions of those same Classes.”

 

Clarice nearly stumbled and tripped again, “WHAT?!”

 

I motioned for Clarice to keep her cool. The last thing I wanted was to lose bargaining power and have the army change the deal. It had admittedly only been a fringe theory of mine, but the more I interacted with the army officers, the more convinced I became that the nobles had access to at least one Advanced Class denied to the general military and quite possibly being kept secret by their officers. Much the same as the Adventurers Guild, I figured it was a contingency of sorts, a powerful combat Class reserved to keep the aristocracy in power.

 

To an outside observer, there would be no evidence besides remarkable combat ability. But the noble and their personal bodyguards would know better, having access to the group Status information. Just like the aristocracy and nobility of Earth’s ancient history, it made sense that nobles would receive much more advanced training than regular soldiers. Their training covered a much larger array of weapons and fighting styles and combined with their expensive equipment, it marked them as the elite fighting force of the battlefield.

 

Just about every culture had its own variation, but in the west, they were called Knights.

 

*****

 

Rooke struggled to keep herself from smiling too broadly as she led the designated instructors and a trio of freshly wiped volunteers into the Chieftain’s settlement. As she had expected, her superiors had accepted the deal almost immediately, the only reason it had taken so long to seek Tim out to finalise the deal, was because securing the requisite authorisation codes and transmitting them over secure communication was a time-consuming process.

 

To Rooke’s surprise, Tim was not hard to find, apparently engaged in an intense discussion with his mate and the adventurer Clarice. Sorely tempted to activate her Eagle Vision, Rooke resisted the urge to eavesdrop and risk botching their deal. Securing the knowledge to unlock the Surgeon and its advanced versions was a lower priority than Tim and his settlement, but it would prove critical in buying time they desperately needed.

 

Tim and his own entourage had seen them coming and were moving to meet them partway.

 

Besides scheduled use of the fountain, there had been an implied requirement that the soldiers stick to their own camp. Unsure of whether she should have brought so many soldiers this far into Sanctuary, Rooke decided to play it safe and wait for Tim to come to them.

 

“Your superiors agreed,” Tim guessed, a deceptively keen intelligence reflected in his eyes as he scrutinised Rooke’s soldiers for a moment before settling on her.

 

Standing so close to a monster capable of ripping her limb from limb was made all the more worrying because Tim’s aggression was uncharacteristically restrained. Rooke had killed no small number of Ogres over the years, but always from a distance and while hidden. But besides looking like an admittedly small member of his race, Tim’s intelligence and restraint was practically unheard of. Older and advanced evolutions of Ogres could be cunning, but never truly intelligent.

 

Rooke nodded, “They have. We are prepared to begin the exchange immediately, so long as that is agreeable with you?”

 

Tim said nothing for a few moments, his attention shifting to the three volunteers, “Are they literate?” He asked curiously.

 

Of all the questions he could have asked, Rooke had not expected that one. “Uh...” She looked back at Gunner, Flek and Liza.

 

Flek and Liza stiffly nodded nervously, while Gunner shook his head.

 

“Is literacy a requirement?” Rooke asked nervously. Most recruits had basic levels of literacy, but not all.

 

For a tense few moments, Tim said nothing. “No, you remember better when you take notes and can read them later,” he commented, “You will want to make learning to read and write a priority in the future. There is a lot more to surgery and medicine than unlocking a few Classes. Being able to read the advice and research being conducted by your peers is a very important skill.”

 

Gunner nodded stiffly and determinedly set his jaw.

 

“Have you decided on specialties?” Tim asked, “Assigning them a mentor will help streamline the process somewhat.”

 

“Mentor? You won’t be training them yourself?” Rooke asked, unable to help herself from sounding disappointed.

 

Tim gave her a curious look in return, “I can teach them lessons, but I also want to see if those I have taught already are capable of effectively passing that same knowledge along in addition to their practical experience. After all, I am not a Surgeon.”

 

When he put it like that, Rooke had to admit that it made a great deal of sense. Just because he knows how to unlock the Surgeon Classes, doesn't mean he has the practical experience that would otherwise give their freshly trained Surgeons an edge.

 

Rooke bowed her head in deference to his reasoning. “Do you have volunteers for our instructors?” She asked in return, briefly scanning the nearby area.

 

“Not yet,” Tim admitted, “Are there any hard limits or requirements?”

 

Rooke stepped aside and motioned for the three Sergeants to step up and explain themselves.

 

Sgt. Finn spoke first, “Anyone wanting to become an Archer will need both arms and most of their fingers,” he slipped his bow off his shoulder and strung it by using his leg and knee for leverage, “Both legs is a plus, but you would be surprised hehe,” Sgt. Finn then demonstrated nocking an arrow and drawing back the string, making it clear why you needed certain fingers more than others.

 

Sgt. Jean drew a shortsword from her belt scabbard and swapped it between her hands, “No real requirements. So long as they have at least one good hand, or a functional prosthetic, unlocking the Swordsman is more about determination than physical ability.”

 

Clarice nodded in agreement.

 

“Same for Spearman,” Sgt. Unger agreed, “But two hands makes unlocking easier,” he held his spear with two hands rather than one and made a few example thrusts and swipes to accentuate his point. “Novices find the extra control from a second-hand makes it easier to meet the requirements.”

 

Tim nodded then turned his attention to his mate, the Deep Orc known as Lash. Nearly as large as he was, Rooke sincerely hoped their future offspring inherited their father’s temperament. While Tim was accepting of humans, Lash held open distrust and suspicion for Rooke and her soldiers. “Could you go round up anyone who might be interested in learning the combat Classes?” Tim asked with a surprising degree of gentleness.

 

Lash’s expression softened and she even smiled a little, “Okay,” Lash agreed and gave Tim a kiss on his neck. As she began walking away, Lash locked eyes with Rooke and curled her lips into a feral snarl exposing her powerful teeth in what Rooke could only interpret as a warning.

 

“I assume you will be teaching the unlock requirements for Scouts?” TIm asked expectantly.

 

Rooke nodded, “Just try to bear in mind that some people just aren’t cut out for it,” She warned to temper his expectations.

 

Tim didn’t seem all that surprised, “You said as much before. Scouts are found, not recruited. Remember?”

 

Rooke was a little surprised, “Y-yeah...” She agreed, inwardly cursing herself for having underestimated his perceptiveness.

 

“Well, if you want to bring over the necessary training materials to the training grounds, I can introduce your volunteers to their mentors and get them started on the basics,” Tim suggested.

 

Rooke nodded but paused after considering what would very likely be a problem, “I don’t think we will be able to handle more than five students each,” she apologised.

 

Tim gave her a critical look and then to Rooke’s immense surprise, shrugged. “It’s fine. It will just give the others a better idea of what to expect when it is their turn.”

 

His relative level of indifference gave Rooke pause. She felt like she was missing something important...