Rock, the ex-commander of the forest, swallowed his pride at last. It was getting hard to swallow just about anything except wine these days, but he did his best regardless.

Because it was his pride, of course, that was keeping him from seeking out Elphaea. Too proud to ask for help, and too proud to bother the venerable dryad for something as simple as his own problems.

He was a proud man, after all. That was all that it was.

He definitely hadn’t been putting it off out of fear, because Rock was not afraid. Not afraid that he’d discover his affliction was incurable. Or permanent. Or lethal. Who’d be afraid of a little lethality? He’d rushed straight towards death numerous times before. Hell, he’d even died.

No. Rock definitely wasn’t afraid.

With that settled, he processed his emotions in the best way he knew how: He grunted.

Best get this over with, then.

He wandered off into the forest, ranging out much farther than he strictly needed to just to prevent the chance of anyone stumbling upon him. When he judged himself to be far enough, he closed his eyes and bowed.

“Honored dryad. If it pleases you, this one would ask you a favor.”

He remained bowed as he waited. There were few people that the commander — the former commander — of the forest deigned to show deference to, but the honored dryad was certainly on that list. Thankfully, he didn’t need to wait long.

“Rise, young one.”

When he lifted himself and opened his eyes, she stood right before him.

Frowning.

For a moment, Rock wondered if he’d offended her somehow, but then he recalled that frowns were now the normal reaction to seeing him. Oh, sure, the wine had done — and continued to do — wonders for his health, but half the reason he was here was because it could only do so much. Overly taut, graying skin was pulled over a shell of a visibly exhausted man in such a way that no amount of Charisma could possibly compensate for.

Not that he had much to begin with, but still.

“You are sick.” It was not a question, but a statement of fact. “Lie down.”

An invisible wave of tension immediately left his body — not from any healing magic, but from the simple fact that she would help him. It was hard not to ruminate on the worst possibilities at times.

He lay down, the earth softening under him into a bed of loam. And then-

Bliss.

Rock had never hit the first Perception Threshold. Wasn’t even close, truth be told. There was a point, however, at which even a layman like him could feel the buildup of mana. The atmosphere shifted. And once it entered him — into the domain of his own small, but functional mana core — he could sense it then too.

All of this to say, Rock was aware that the amount of mana that was being used on him was absurd. Plenty of shadows had healing spells. He was no stranger to them. Had one of his people burnt through that much mana, even with their comparatively weaker healing, they could have taken an entire dragon from death’s door to perfect shape.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care. Only one thing really mattered right then.

The pain. It’s gone.

It had been such a constant companion in the recent weeks that he’d practically forgotten what its absence felt like.

Foolish. Should have done this sooner. Glad to be done with all-

“I have healed the symptoms, young one. I am sorry to say, however, that I have not cured the disease. It will return.”

It was a good thing there was a font of healing magic still running through him, as he suspected that if there weren’t, his heart might have stopped.

If a dryad can’t even cure me…

“Thank you honored dryad, for your aid.” He lifted himself off the ground, only to lower himself once more in a bow. “Is there no cure, then?”

He hadn’t had many interactions with the dryad — even the Protagonist and the bartender had spoken to her more. Still, he’d gained an image of her as being infallible. Unflappable.

He must have been mistaken, then. He thought she appeared rather uncertain, presently. Worried even. But likely, it was a trick of the mind.

“There may be. However, the problem does not lie with the body, or even the mind or core. It is a problem of the soul. Old though I may be, I regret to say it is a field I have not seen fit to dabble in. I fear you will need a rather skilled soul mage, young one.”

The conversation didn’t end there. Something was said about him returning every month. Letting the honored dryad heal away the symptoms of the disease. Though he responded to her words, he did so in a haze, half automatically.

A deity couldn’t even fix it properly. Where would I possibly find a soul mage powerful enough?

It wasn’t even as if he could leave Emer’Thalis to find one — without the dryad’s periodic healing, he doubted his body would last long enough for any serious sort of traveling.

Lost in a fog of sorts, he barely heard the dryad’s words until she said something that cut through.

“Then take care, young one. And hopefully I may keep you healthy enough for now to continue your mentoring, yes?”

My…

“Ah, yes. Of the bartender girl. I fear I’m getting more out of it than she is, in fairness. A wonder how much mentoring can do for the mentor sometimes.”

Hmm. An overshare. Must be a bit too loose from the pain being gone. The dryad hadn’t asked, after all.

She did seem rather pensive at his statement though.

Well, if the honored dryad has healed me and wishes me to continue with the girl, then I supposed I’m obligated to give it my all, yes? Without realizing it, he broke into a vicious grin.

A pity. She’ll be working hard, then.

This. Fucking. Sucks!

Nadja panted hard as her body was pushed well past its specs. There was a reason that people’s stats had numbers attached to them: So they would know how much work would make them devolve into a sweaty, panting mess, and then to not ever reach that point.

“Again!” came the shout from the cruel villain she’d signed her soul away to.

Why the hells did I ever agree to this?

And yet, she did it again. She swung down with her club, all the muscles in her arm — including several she hadn’t known existed until recently — protesting violently.

“You chose the club, girl! Not a blade which parts flesh at the merest touch. Not a spear which punctures with ample force. No! A club! So you better get used to putting your all into it!”

The words — familiar by now — barely registered, except for the dash of judgment behind them. Rock had made it clear that she didn’t have the Strength or the Endurance for a weapon like a club. In fairness, she didn’t have the stats for just about any weapons, but the club in particular was a bad fit.

But, well-

She’d never really used a sword. Like most things rogue-like, she’d been shit with a pair of daggers. If she looked at the fights she’d been in the past few years, most of the time she’d just… whacked someone on the head. With a bottle.

Kind of how being a bartender worked sometimes.

Maybe it was dumb, but in terms of actual weapons, a club was the closest you could get to a full bottle of booze.

Luckily, Rock was certain that if she reached a high enough level with the Clubs skill, she’d be able to get perks for it that decreased the weapon’s weight and made it easier for her to use. Unluckily, that was a long, long way’s off.

That was fine, though. Maybe Rock would eventually get bored with her, but she had no intention of quitting. It was nice finally picking up a serious fighting skill. She’d tried her hand a few things while in the Thieves’ Guild, but nothing had ever clicked. Maybe if she’d worked harder back then, she wouldn’t be stuck as a regular ol’ Bartender.

Not that it’s so bad. It’s un-bad, even. Kind of nice, really. Just wasn’t the plan.

Plus, she liked training under the forest shadow. He was a bit gruff at times, and maybe he could stand to do with a little less grunting, but she was pretty sure he was just a big ol’ softy under all that weird light-cracked skin of his.

Glad he’s looking better, too. Pretty sure I thought he was at least twenty years older when we met. Thankfully, shortly after their first few lessons, Elphaea had apparently fixed him up from some disease he’d gotten. Now he was right as rain.

For a second, she thought he’d somehow heard her thoughts as he chuckled to himself.

“I will admit, this is very reminiscent. Much like training the other girl. The settlement owner.” Rock didn’t bother using Tess’s name, apparently not expecting Nadja to know it.

But of course, she did.

“Sorry. You know Tess?”

It shouldn’t have been surprising. If Tess hadn’t been fully lying out of her ass, then she’d apparently stayed with the shadows for a while. Still, though, Nadja hadn’t expected this close a connection.

Once more, Rock grunted out in affirmation. “I know the girl. Trained her for a bit. Went into the dungeon with her. It is what it is. More importantly, how do you know the girl? I was made to understand she was only in your city for a brief period. Were you involved in her quest?”

Nadja had to chew that over for a moment before she could even think about replying. From his tone, she could tell there was little lost love between the two, though he hadn’t said anything outright negative about her. Still, though. A bizarre coincidence that he’d trained her too.

Hope I’m the better one. Although, not like I can beat up spiders or tree people or whatever Tess was up to, so probably a no-go on that front.

“We… met. Yeah. What quest are you talking about?” She still only had a foggy idea of what Tess was doing in the city in the first place. Now that Nadja knew Tess was the settlement owner, it was pretty clear she’d done something in Ftheran to get the builders here. Outside of going on fake dates and whacking her in the back of the head, though, the specifics of it all were a little vague.

Rock shrugged. “As I heard it, something about a scepter. Got some strange rod for the king; got his support and the builders sent. Amak would know more — I wasn’t as involved. You have anything to do with that?”

Ha. Ha! Did she have something to do with that? Did she? Nadja did her best to keep a straight face.

“I think you could say that, yes. I might even go so far as to say that I was instrumental in Tess getting the scepter you’re talking abou-”

What? Wait. What?

Nadja failed to finish her sentence as she caught sight of Rock stiffly bowing to her. Considering that they’d had a good handful of training sessions by now, and he’d mostly only yelled and cursed at her during them, it was unexpected to say the least.

“Then you have my thanks. From my understanding of it, that scepter got the king’s support, which was instrumental in building Emer’Thalis. If your help was as important as you claim, then we likely would not be here without you. The deadlands would still be expanding into my people’s forest. The kexids would still be attacking on sight.”

With her Charisma as high as it was, and her level in Conversation fairly high as well, it was rare that Nadja found herself at a loss for words. This, however, was one of those rare cases.

Was the scepter actually that important? Clearly the king had wanted back, but everyone in the Guild had known that from the start. At worst, they thought he’d have a few troubles with assigning people new classes. Considering how infrequently that had happened in the first place — on account of how expensive it was for most people — that hadn’t even been much of a concern.

Maybe if she’d spent some time reflecting, she would have put everything together. Clearly Tess had done something for the king to get some people sent out here. The people that had come here from Ftheran were necessary to get the settlement built up, and activate the dungeon portal. Something had happened related to the dungeon that had made the gloomy skies disappear. There’d also been some sort of announcement that the kexids — which they’d been warned about on their trip here — were now friendly.

All in all, she probably had all the pieces of the puzzle she needed to figure out that Tess getting the scepter had been the kicking-off point for quite a fair number of important things. Still, it wasn’t something she’d really sat down and thought about.

Something I wouldn’t have needed to think about if Tess had just told me. Which she’s had multiple months to do by now if she had any desire to apologize.

Nadja stood there with conflicting desires to both sigh and protest the bowing that was happening in front of her. The latter won out for now — reflection could happen later — and she threw her hands up as if to ward away the man’s thanks.

“Really, no need for that. My help was… accidental in a sense.” Uncharitably, she’d actually done her best to not help Tess, by being part of the organization that had kept the scepter in the first place. “Plus, you’re already paying me back with the training!”

It was the latter sentiment that seemed to get through to the shadow, and he raised himself up with a steely grin.

“Suppose I am, aren’t I? If I want to pay you back, then we should make sure you get the full worth out of the training, hmm?”

Nadja was fairly sure his grin was unchanged, but suddenly it took on a much more foreboding tone.

Is it almost time for the after-dinner shift? Please? She prayed for the sun to move faster and her sore muscles to pipe down a bit.

Crap.

Nadja considered protesting. Backing out. But she’d been the one who asked for this in the first place.

And so, she’d train. Train and get stronger.