Chapter 8: Taking a party

"Why are you giving me money now, when you are not due to make a payment for another six months?" Filarion asked. The archer scratched the back of his head.

"We figured that we are going to spend the winnings from the slime dungeon on nonsense otherwise. The bank in the guild has a minimum deposit, so, we can't put this in there either way. So, we decided that it is best to begin to pay you back, lord Elathana," the archer said, and Filarion got an idea.

"How about I open you an account with the bank I am using? Then, you get to pile up money for the next six months," Filarion asked, and the three stared at him with wide eyes.

"Doesn't it have a minimum deposit?" The healer asked. Filarion sighed.

"It does, but what does it matter? Healer, why are you all littered in cuts and scratches. You should have healed your partners."

At Filarion's chastising of him, the healer looked down.

"I closed the major wounds, but couldn't get the smaller ones because I ran out of mana. I am sorry, my lord," the healer said, and Filarion began to massage his temples with his fingers.

He was before a dilemma here. These were young people. Probably boys who had worked on the fields just a couple of weeks ago. If he let them take another quest, then they might take something that was way over their heads, and get themselves killed.

Then, he got an idea of how to help these three, and get to see Johnny despite the restraining order. If Filarion formed a party with the three teens, took them under his wing, and all that, then he could go and train them to the point where the guild would accept them as members. After that, he would be able to see Johnny, albeit from a distance.

In the meantime, he could train them in the guild's training hall. All the better, for Johnny was going to be there for some of his own training, at one point or the other. The restraining order was just fifty meters. They could even go in the same buildings. Someone must have bribed the judge, for it to be this light.

"I have decided, we are forming a party together. How old are you three, and what are your names?" Filarion asked. The three adventurers had eyes as big as saucers.

"My name is Gregory, and I am fifteen," the archer said, and then the healer stepped forward.

"The name is Nathaniel, I am also fifteen," then, it was the berserker's turn.

"My name is Zaine, I am seventeen," the berserker then went back to his usual spot.

Filarion massaged his temples again. He was going to be a nanny for two fifteen-year-olds and one seventeen-year-old. Still, if it got him into Johnny's good graces...

"My name is Filarion Elathana, I am about seventy years old," Filarion said. He never liked to count his age. What did it matter, when he had plenty of years ahead of him even at seventy? Elves were long-lived. Unless you killed them, they could live on forever.

"Thank you for the opportunity, lord Elathana," Gregory told him with a boyish smile. Filarion rose from the throne.

"Now, your training begins. I will be a tough task master. You will wish that we are not a party, by the time you are ready to take the battle evaluation of the adventurer's guild. But I will turn you from what you are now, to the elite. Mark my words," Filarion said, and then did his best to walk to the three without limping too much.

"Are you hurt, lord Elathana?" Nathaniel asked, rising his staff.

"Nothing a bit of rest won't help with. Come now, we are going to train in the adventurer's guild hall," Filarion told them, and did his best to smile at the three.

They were given horses, and Filarion led them back to the nearby village. The guild's receptionist let them in, after Filarion paid the visitor's tax for the guild's training hall, and then the three were standing to attention before him.

"Now, I am a rogue, not any of your classes," Filarion began, and all three wilted. They had hoped the elf could teach them his secret moves. "Still, I have many archers, berserkers and yes, even healers, in my employee. I know how to train them."

At that, the three gave him blinding smiles. Filarion didn't tell them that those who were skilled enough to have classes were usually the assassins. He wanted a hero worship established among the three for him. A good light, in which Johnny could see him.

"Now, begin to run around the hall. I will throw sticks at you. If I manage to hit you, then you will go back to the beginning point, and run the length you ran once more," Filarion went, and took some sticks from a box from his bottomless bag. The three went to the door of the hall, and began to run.

The elf allowed them to get halfway, and then hit them all with the sticks. They all groaned as one, which Filarion found adorable, and went back to the door.

The next time, Filarion almost let them get to the end of the hall. He aimed his sticks at them, judging the distance and the air current. Then, just as they almost reached the door, he let the sticks fly.

"Oh, come on," Nathaniel was drenched in sweat, and breathing heavily. Filarion just rose an eyebrow at him, and they walked the small distance to the door, and began to run again.

The third time, they were running in zigzag. That amused Filarion. He let them reach the end again, and then hit them all in the shoulders. The teens gave him fierce glares, but got back to the starting position.

Filarion realized with a start that he was having fun. He even forgot about his sore ass, as he calculated when to crush their hopes. Then, the door to the training hall opened, and in came Johnny. Their eyes met, and Filarion's smile widened.