Famor stopped them at the edge of the forest, and the three elves glanced around anxiously. Dean laid a hand on his sword hilt as he followed suit, though he didn’t know what the others had sensed. Famor relaxed after a moment, saying “It’s just a messenger.”

A few minutes later, an elf emerged from the forest silent as a ghost, making Dean jerk in surprise. He hadn’t heard anything, yet somehow the other three had sensed the messenger before he was anywhere near them.

The messenger ignored every except Famor, who he bowed to before saying, “We found a group of humans near our border calling out his name.” The man tilted his head towards Dean. “We’re escorting them in this direction, but it’ll be a few hours. They lumber about in the forest like horned elkorns.”

Famor grinned at Dean, “It appears we’ve found your missing friends. While we wait, I can begin teacking you the Katori fighting technique.”

Dean gasped in the surprise along with Neva and Amelia, before saying, “I thought you weren’t going to teach me since it was Elven.”

Famor nodded, “Originally, no. But I believe my mother is right about you. You’re not like other humans, and you were willing to risk your life for our village. That alone should prove something.”

“That’s why you really sent Neva away?” Amelia started.

Famor smiled vaguely, “Perhaps. I suspect he wouldn’t like it even knowing the risk we now face.”

She chuckled, “No, I don’t suspect so.”

Famor laughed as he drew his sword and stepped a few feet away into a small clearing. “Follow me, Dean.” Dean did as instructed, drawing his sword as he walked over to stand beside Famor. Once in position, Famor said, “First, bend your knees slightly and put your weight on the balls of your feet.” Dean tried, going on tiptoe and almost falling over in the process. Famor growled, “Not like that. Look at how I’m standing.”

Dean studied Famor’s stance and tried to imitate it. He bent his knees and leaned forward slightly onto his toes without taking his heels of the ground. It felt odd at first, almost like being off balanced, but without the risk of falling down.

“Next, step forward as you swing your sword, like so.” Famor demonstrated and Dean tried. “No, you’re swinging your sword like a drunken fool. Control it.”

Dean growled in frustration but did as instructed. After a dozen attempts, Famor finally nodded in satisfaction. “Good, now repeat it.” Dean did. “Again.”

Dean repeated the same action, swinging the sword as he stepped forward, over and over again. After twenty times, Dean swung widely as he growled, “How many times do I have to repeat this?”

Famor grinned mischievously as he moved in to face Dean. “You’ve learned it then? Prove it.” Famor held up his sword lazily against his side. Dean stared incredulously at Famor, who signaled for him to attack, before sighing. “Fine.” Dean attacked.

Famor’s sword flashed, catching Dean’s blade forcing it aside with ease, and twisting his own to knock Dean off-balance. Dean fell forward onto the ground, his sword buried halfway into the ground. Famor looked down at him impassively, “Again.”

Dean pulled himself up and tugged on his sword. It stuck in the ground. Dean tried several more times before the sword popped out, sending Dean sprawling onto his back. He climbed to his feet to find Famor standing there calmly, watching him. Famor raised his blade and waited.

Dean hesitated, knowing this was about to turn into their last fight. Dean gripped his sword tightly, glaring at Famor, but refusing to let his anger control him like last time. He spent the next hour landing on his back before climbing to his feet.

He finally kept his feet after an exchange, though completely unbalanced as their swords locked. He laughed in surprise and relief, only to have Famor gently push him. Dean fell over, shocked that Famor hadn’t given him the victory. He glared up at Famor, who smiled down at him approvingly, “Better. Now keep your balance.”

After several more attempts, Dean succeeded and received a new notification.

Optional Quest: The Katori Technique Pt. 1

Reward: Improved Fighting Ability

Description: You’ve earned the first rank in the Katori fighting technique. Improve your rank to unlock new skills and abilities.

Ability: Katori Technique – Level 1

Bonuses:

+1 Agility

+1 Poise

*Advance in the Katori Technique to unlock additional abilities.

Dean laughed aloud, only laughing louder when the others looked at him like he’d gone made. Once he could get it under control, Dean turned to face Famor and settled into the Katori poise. It felt natural, no different than standing normally.

Famor blinked in surprise before nodding approvingly. “Now for the next form.”

Dean practiced until Amelia called out, “They’re almost here.” In response, Famor immediately caught Dean’s sword in a new maneuver and sent it flying across the small clearing.

Dean stared after it, realizing that he still wasn’t in the same league as Famor with the technique, much less the same ballpark. Dean mentally berated himself for convincing himself into thinking he was really keeping Famor at bay.

Sarge’s booming voice filtered through the forest long before he appeared. “Anytime you want, twinkle toes.”

A deep, gruff voice responded, “Bring it on, flat foot.”

Sarge laughed, “Anytime, pointy ears.”

A short, bearded Elf emerged from the woods. He was wearing the same mottled clothes as the other elves. Sarge followed him into the clearing, both bickering with each other. Famor glanced at Dean questioningly, but Dean shrugged back at him in confusion. Marie and Ryan followed, holding back their laughter along with two other elves. Both were no older than Dean, one with long blonde hair and the other with short black hair. Blondie had a hook nose and what the elf probably thought was a smoldering smile. To Dean, Blondie looked like he’d swallowed something nasty, but didn’t want anyone to know. The black haired elf, on the other hand, had a slight frown on his long face as he surveyed Dean before nodding, satisfied that Dean wasn’t a threat.

Dean realized that Sarge and the new elf had established some kind of bond during the trip. He shook his head. By the large scar on the elf’s face, he guessed the man was some kind of old soldier. It had to be some kind of soldier thing, becoming friends by challenging and insulting each other. For some reason, he wasn’t surprised that Sarge, coarse personality and all, was the one out of his friends to befriend an elf, mortal enemy of humans.

Sarge glared at him, “Where the hell have you been? I told you to stay safe, not go off on your own.”

“I’ve been making friends,” Dean said as nonchalantly as possible, “What about you?”

Sarge growled, “And if they weren’t friendly?”

“They weren’t at first,” Dean shrugged, “Not really.”

“And if you’d died?” Sarge demanded.

“Oh, I did die,” Dean laughed at Sarge’s reaction. “It’s cool, though, my spawn point is now the elven village.” Dean laughed even harder as Sarge gaped at him.

“You what your spawn point?” Sarge demanded.

“It’s no longer in Torial.” Dean smirked. He pointed at the forest behind him. “It’s with the elves. Pretty cool, huh?”

“You…you…” Sarge spluttered.

Dean patted him on the shoulder and adopted a hippy accent, “Hey, no worries, man. It’s all good.” Sarge ground his teeth. Dean continued in his normal voice, “Come on, we’re wasting daylight when we’ve got a city to build.”

Dean started walking, stifling a laugh, as the others fell in step with him. He stopped himself from looking back for as long as he could. When he did, Sarge was staring at him in a mix of agitated rage and reluctant admiration. At least, Dean decided to translate it that way, since the only other option was that Sarge had a stomachache. One point for me.

Famor pulled him aside that evening as the others set up camp, moving just out of eyesight to continue their lesson for a few hours, and again the following morning at first light. Midway through the second day, they reached the foot of a large cliff, the start of the mountains, and followed it further south. Midafternoon of the next day, they spotted a pass in the distance. They reached the start of it that evening and set up camp.

They followed the pass through the mountains the next morning. It sloped steeply upward, enough to feel it in their calves after a while, as it twisted around jagged outcroppings of boulders and debris. As they walked, Jim kept up a running commentary saying, “this would be a good spot to defend”, though they couldn’t tell if he was saying it to them or himself. Dean thought might be directed at him. After one such comment, he finally asked, “Why do you say that?”

Jim looked at him, a puzzled expression on his face. “Say what?”

Apparently, the comment hadn’t been directed at him. “Why was that place defendable.”

“Oh,” Jim explained, “It’s because that place was relatively straight, with two outcroppings on either side, so it’s narrower than everywhere else.” He gestured with his hands, indicating an outcropping on the left in front of another on the right slightly further back, then drawing a line where he’d indicated, “Build a wall between the two, and with a few mortars on them, anyone trying to get through would have a bad time of it.” Now that Jim wasn’t concentrating on the walk, he wasn’t having as hard a time of it. Dean guessed Jim was probably not in military shape anymore in real life, since he’d mentioned being out for a while, and that the heavy breathing while walking was more mental.

Instead of mentioning anything, he kept the conversation going, “There aren’t any mortars in the game.”

“Not yet, there aren’t.” Jim argued, “But there could be. And then, we’ll blow all those commie bastard orcs to hell.” He grinned wickedly, rubbing his hands together.

“I’ll get right on that.” Dean shook his head, the sides of his mouth twitching up. Jim was starting to grow on him. Despite being a little egotistical and boisterous, he got the sense that Jim was pretty straightforward and deeply loyal to his friends. Sure, his stories were probably tall tales, or at least exaggerated for shock value and comic relief, but they were entertaining in their own right. And really, who didn’t exaggerate a story at least a little?

“See that you do.” Jim responded. “I want a report on my desk by the end of the week, or your next assignment will be in Antarctica. Do you hear me? Antarctica. With the penguins.”

Knowing it would rile him up more, Dean responded, “Aye, aye sir.”

“Aye, aye sir?” Jim responded, his voice thick with mocking scorn, “What is this? The Navy? Go back to your kiddie pool and play with your rubber duckies, or whatever it is you kids do, and let the real men take care of this.”

The walls on either side of the pass ended abruptly. The slope continued for another hundred feet, before cresting a small hill. On the other side, they found a large valley stretching for miles before ending in a large lake.

“It had to of been made by icebergs.” Jim spoke softly, barely above a whisper, not wanting to dispel the awe of the scenic view.

“Glaciers,” Mary replied automatically. Jim gave her a pained look. She patted him gently on the shoulder, “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re right that it was made by ice, they’re just called glaciers.”

Jim huffed, the view forgotten, “Iceberg. Glacier. Only scientists would think they need more than one name for giant block of ice.”

Dean ignored them for the time, not wanting to get drawn away from the sight before him. The whole place was serene, almost idyllic, like something dreamed up from of a Bob Ross painting. The lake on the other side of the valley was fed by a cascading waterfall, with a small river running across the length of most of the valley before disappearing being a large forest of happy trees. The forest ran almost the entire length of the valley along to the left of where Dean was standing. On the other side of the riverbank, a wide, flat plain sloped gently upward until it butted against an escarpment with a raised plateau atop it, at least half a mile in length and half as wide.

“So,” He interrupted the couple, “Any guesses on what we need to do to claim this place?”

“Do you have a flag?” Jim asked.

“No, why?”

“You can’t have a country without a flag, those are the rules.”

“No, they aren’t. Shiro said you had to have a settlement crystal.”

“You’re killing me, smalls.” Jim replied as Mary and him started walking past Dean into the valley. “You’re killing me.”

“Seriously, what’re you talking about? And I’m not small.” Dean protested as he jogged to catch up to them. They were laughing by the time he did. “What’re you laughing at?”

“Nothing, man.” Jim waved the comment away, “You seriously need to brush up on references.”

Fuming, Dean marched past them, and headed towards the escarpment. He ignored their calls for him to wait up as he kept an eye out for anything that looked promising. Halfway to it, he saw a small cave at the base. He started jogging towards it.

Outside, he paused to peer inside. The opening was large, the size of a castle gate, and the cave deeper than he’d expected. It was too dark inside for him to see all that far, but he thought it opened up into a larger cavern twenty or thirty paces in. He glanced at the others once they caught up to him, Mary giving him an apologetic look, before leading them in. They waited just inside for their eyes to adjust to the dimmer light.