Leander was weeding the herbal garden silently. Under the watchful gaze of his client. An old healer by the name of Tom. Tom was missing his left arm, and his face was littered by scars. But, the aged healer's gaze was sharp and attentive.

What was more, it was full of approval. Because Leander was careful not to pull out the herbs, knowing full well how to differentiate them from the weeds.

Leander didn't move from a patch until it was weeded. Tom was glad. Usually, Tom had to bark at the adventurers that they have missed a spot. To grumble and shame them into doing their jobs. This healer was different.

What Tom worried about was that the chubby boy could drop from the heat. This autumn was too warm by far, and the sun was relentless. The old healer stood up and went back inside. He filled a glass with water and placed a slice of lemon inside.

Then, he carried the drink to Leander.

"Here you go. If you need more, just say so," Leander raised his eyes so that he could look at Tom.

"You didn't have to," Leander took the glass and drank half of it in one go.

"Nonsense. I know how it is, on a quest," Tom went to sit back in his rocking chair and Leander placed the glass down.

"This is just an F rank quest," Leander murmured. He was still smarting about the fact that the Budding Lilies had tricked them. But, each quest was worth three quest slots. And they were going to get them as a whole.

"There is no such thing like a shameful quest. Only shameful conduct during a quest," Tom told him, and Leander went back to weeding.

"You know, Baleg told my party and me much the same, once," Leander murmured. Tom chuckled.

"Is that upstart still in the field? I partied with him, in my twilight days as an adventurer. That tank of his was something else. And Baleg was not half-bad," Leander was glad to hear that.

"He is now manning the front desk at the adventurer's guild. Registers new members, parties, platoons and gives out quests. That kind of thing," Leander informed Tom, and Tom hummed.

"Still an adventurer, despite the years. Not many stay on the job once they turn sixty," Leander blinked. Baleg was how old?

"He can't possibly be sixty. Forty, maybe?" Tom leaned back in his chair and stopped rocking in it.

"He does look young, does he not? Do you want to know how he does it?" Leander stopped with the weeding and he nodded. Eyes locked on Tom's face.

"Exercise, letting go of trouble, and healthy eating. Did you know he doesn't eat sugar? He never has," Leander's nose was tickled by a tall weed, and he looked at it, remembering why he was here.

"How does he do it without suffering from a burnout?" Leander pulled out the weed with the roots and threw it on the weed pile that he was going to burn later.

"Who knows?" Tom sighed. He had tried to do what Baleg did, but his will had been weak. "If you can, learn from him. There is plenty that he could teach you."

"I'll try to ask him questions about his lifestyle some time, when he is not busy with his duties or Armaros," Leander agreed, and he moved to a new patch.

"You know; you remind me of my party member. He was a berserker, but a more softly spoken one you would not find.  Jose, like you, gave others the time of day and listened to their worries," Tom's face became pained when he remembered his friend.

"Where is he? Perhaps I can meet him?" Leander looked around. He had the impression that Tom lived alone, but he could be mistaken.

"In a grave below a willow," Tom managed to utter, his hands shaky. "We underestimated rats, of all things. And he paid the price."

"Boss mob rats? My party and I fought one that was as big as a farm house," Leander said, absentmindedly. He felt for the old healer, really, but there was nothing to do about the dead.

"Normal rats. Like the ones you find in barns and sewers," Tom sucked in a breath. "We were at a farm and heavily wounded by Griffins. I was unconscious and Jose brought me into the barn. He was wounded and, he, too, fell unconscious. My barrier stone activated when a rat bit my boots, expelling the rat. Jose was eaten alive."

Leander felt sick, then. This was a bad way to go. There was nothing to say to the old healer. At least the berserker had been out of it as he died.

"Silent? Well, be that way. I hope nothing like that happens to your own party. Do you know how to cast a barrier, boy?" Tom asked, and Leander nodded.

"I have a barrier spell in my soul crystal staff. With five spell slots," Tom stood, went to Leander, and then began to tug at the blonde's ear.

"What, are you going to tell your friends one day: sorry, I am all out of spell slots? Have them drag you in a rat infested barn with tons of the hungry cretins and fall unconscious on them? Be a useless failure that..." Tom let out a sob, then another, and he fell on the herb patch. Clutching at Leander's shoulder with his one remaining hand.

"Sir, can you teach me how to put up a barrier without the staff? And a couple of other spells? I can pay," Leander was hugged tighter at those words.

"You don't let your pride speak. Keep it that way. Have a growth mindset, fixed mindset will get you and your friends killed," Tom then let go of Leander and, on shaky legs, went back to his chair.

"Training starts when you have time, I won't take away from your normal training. As for payment, weeding the garden is enough. You are good at it, and every healer has to know his way around with herbs," Leander nodded and continued to weed the plants. Vowing, he would not let his friends leave him behind to his regrets, like how Jose had done unintentionally to Tom.