Ed limped behind Joe, leaning on his new staff. Even without being able to activate True Sight, he could feel the blood manna pulsing through the staff and resonating with the blood manna in his own body, something that comforted him. The staff he’d taken from the fledgling hobgoblin all those months ago hadn’t had nearly the same effect, signifying that this new one was probably much more powerful.

His Core, however, remained immobile and had not changed since the day he woke up. He would have to investigate it later, when he had more peace of mind and time to meditate. He’d need to stabilize his soul and Spirit before experimenting with it, or consuming the Blood Crystal that he’d gained from stabbing Mustafa. It now sat in his pocket, pulsing ominously.

The sounds of construction and Hunters coming and going faded into the air as they approached a large tract of land that the Scribe had cleared.

The soil was a deep brown color, a marked improvement from the first couple of months since the atmospheric manna had skyrocketed. Most of the organisms living in the soil had died from the increase in manna, leaving the land and lake a rather dessicated place. But now, like the rest of Earth, the organisms were making a comeback like never seen before.

The lake wasn't huge, but Ed still had fond memories of it. Ed had enjoyed coming to sit and admire the way that the lights shimmered like numerous crystals on the surface of the water, before the rifts had opened. He had used to bring bread crumbs and feed the ducks, though the birds were long gone now, either eaten or evolved into some monstrous avian beasts that were prowling the skies somewhere.

That way, they could keep the plants watered with the water drawn from the lake if necessary.

Ed and Joe waved to the couple of non-classer villagers who were fishing. No particularly dangerous fish beasts had been sighted in the lake, though Ed suspected it might be different in larger pools of water. The fish of the lake, mostly cat-fish and other groundlings, had mostly grown in size, speed, and strength, and did not pose any threats to humans once out of the water.

“This is it, Ed. About two acres of land here. I’ve been having the people from the Den and the Pit come here and remove all the dead trees and rocks,” said Joe.

The Scribe had taken over almost all of the coordination duties, as he remembered the exact stats of every member of the Tribe, their classes, and schedules. He had organized the shifts of the Crafters and Hunters, and now the shifts of the remnants of the Den and the Pit, who were mostly assigned to simple manual labor such as these.

“It might be a little late in the year to plant these seeds, but if they’re as adaptable as their status suggests, it might be worth planting a few now,” Joe continued.

“I don’t know much about agriculture, and though we have a few people who were amateur gardeners, there’s no one with a specialty we can really rely on for this project,” Joe said, looking at Ed who had bent down and had grasped a bit of the soil in his hand.

“But according to your description, I think the All-seed is some food producing plant that the Alchemist has engineered. All we can do is plant them with a bit of distance from each other and hope for the best,” Joe said.

“The seeds will be fine, even if the weather and seasons change. We have a couple more months before the cold hits, if it even does. I’m not even sure that we’ll have regular seasons anymore. The atmospheric manna will influence the weather one way or the other,” Ed said.

He handed the pouch containing the seeds to Joe, trusting him to organize the project. Joe took out a single All-seed, which had the shape of an almond, but about five times as big.

“Hm. We’ll plant about half of these, and save the rest in case the harvest does go wrong somehow. I’ll get a team of people on it, probably from the Den,” Joe replied.

Ed nodded, then asked,“Speaking of people from the Den… Ranga and Noel were telling me that there’s a leader of sorts that they listen to. Can you tell me about him?”

Joe nodded, putting the All-seed back into its pouch.

“Ah, yes. His name is Henry. A former Wolf-Rider, though he doesn’t have a class now. He hasn’t said much about the internal workings of the Den. Just that he is thankful for the Tribe’s benevolence in taking them in. He’s a rather quiet, nice young man. Doesn’t seem like the plotting type though you never know nowadays, I suppose,” Joe paused, grimacing.

“Even the more… volatile crew of the Pit seems to listen to him, though they have been maintaining their distance from Henry and his people. All of them have been fairly cooperative. I suppose they have felt the need to side themselves with the Blessed. It’s something we’ve all felt, since the Awakening.”

Joe glanced at the young man still kneeling and rubbing a handful of soil in his hand. His long, blood red hair and the crystal dagger at his side, which were now recognized by everyone of the Tribe as trademarks of their Shaman.

He could imagine the young man, minus the red hair and crystal dagger, sitting in on one of his lectures and raising his hand to ask questions that seem obvious in hindsight, but which no one had thought to point out before.

Then he remembered the young man who had walked up to them with that silent yet assured gait of his, back when they’d been fenced in like livestock. They had watched him stalk the hobgoblin like a shadow, holding their breath in desperation, hoping. Hoping...

“I’ll go and talk to him. We need to make sure that there won’t be further… complications,” said Ed, and Joe couldn’t help but wonder at the wave of reassurance that bloomed in his body.

---

Henry was probably his age, Ed guessed.

Henry had a slim yet athletic build that showed even through the black leather clothing that the former members of the Den still wore. His brown eyes had probably once shown a mischievous spirit, but now smouldered somberly. Whether it was due to the corporate lifestyle or the opening of the rifts, Ed wasn’t able to guess. They were both pretty soul-crushing, in his opinion.

“Shaman,” said Henry, briefly making eye contact before bowing slightly.

It was a world where personal strength counted for a lot, but Ed wasn’t sure how he felt about the way people treated him nowadays.

“No need for that, Henry,” said Ed, smiling gently in an effort to reassure the other young man.

“Yes, sir.”

Oh, dear. Ed hoped this wouldn’t be a recurring theme.

“Not that I have anything against respecting others, Henry, but blind respect is never good for a group’s… wellbeing. Nor would I want someone to be unable to tell me what they really think.” Ed said gently.“I just want to create a Village that’s strong enough to protect itself and provide a home for any human that needs one. A semblance of order.”

“And to do something like that, everyone in the Village needs to be on the same page. Now, could you please tell me what life in the Den was like, and why Mustafa made the choices he did?”

Henry glanced up at Ed, looking a bit surprised by the gentleness in his voice.

“...All right,” Henry muttered nervously.

“Most of the Den were businessmen and women. We understood each other to a degree, and worked well together. Mustafa was probably pretty high up on the ladder, because he was the strongest, but also because he prevented any infighting and because he set up a mercantile system using Spirit Crystals. No one knew him from before the awakening, but... he was a good leader, in the beginning.” Henry said, sneaking a glance at Ed.

Ed nodded, encouraging him to go on.

“It was just… Mustafa has probably saved us more than once, and we began to rely on him more and more. He led the attack on the tribe of goblins who rode the black wolves, and when we saw what he was truly capable of… he seemed almost invincible. So, when he said that having more than one Blessed in a Village and the city would create conflict, that it was better to consolidate power in the city to one Village… we believed him.”

Ed… didn’t necessarily blame Mustafa. If he had been the only Blessed of the Tribe, and the Den had had three Blessed, he would’ve been worried too. Maybe not back-stabbing worried, but still.

“I don’t think he was an evil person-,”

“Neither do I,” concluded Ed. It was just the kind of world it was now, he supposed. He’d have to be more careful in the future.

“I know it probably isn’t an easy position to be in, but I’ve already welcomed you and your people in with open arms. Now’s the time for unity, and the more united we are, the stronger we’ll become. Let bygones be bygones. Perhaps not like Mustafa…. But I plan on making sure that this city, at least, is safe for humans,” said Ed, a steely glint entering his eyes.

“For now, you’ll be the liaison between the original members of the Tribe and the remnants of the Den and the Pit. Prove yourselves, and you’ll be able to choose Classes once again.”

“...Yes, Shaman,” Henry replied, and bowed. Ed smiled and patted him on the shoulder, when a guttural roar echoed through the Village and into the room Ed and Henry were in.

“WARBRINGER!!”

Henry flinched in surprise, but Ed merely grinned and stepped outside. He’d come to enjoy that voice in the last few months.

The rays of the setting sun shone through the green tree tops and fell on the thick, grey skin of the orc running towards him.

Harundal had returned.

Just in time for dinner, it seemed.