John looked over the camp with quiet pride.

  The new Tiros were not up to par with being soldiers. They were easily distracted, unmotivated, and lacking in skill. The new Optios, however, were doing an excellent job at herding them to tasks and keeping them from slacking off too much. He had one squad digging latrines - fourth squad, as it turned out, had been the slowest, one run by an Optio Hailey. The Optio herself had been the last to arrive, and that had not been a positive mark on her performance to John. Given Jack had shared the same concerns, John had ordered him to give her and her squad extra attention.

  With his own skill with wood, trees, and walls, it was only 12 hours after they arrived that a proper fort had been made. They remained by the river, of course, but latrines were dug into a soil pit rather than the river, as they were upstream of Old Mill Town. A ring of spiked palisade surrounded a few ratty canvas tents, with openings in the wall at each cardinal direction. They ran guard on alternating shifts, with one Tiros on each entrance and four more constantly circling the outside. The squad's Optio walked the outer loop, but in the opposite direction of the Tiros, which gave them overlapping fields of view and a quick way to see if anything happened to any of the guards.

  The tents were temporary. They only needed a few dwellings to make it an official outpost from which Dalton had revealed that he could upgrade his outpost just like Mitchell upgraded the town.

  However his upgrades cost a nebulous ‘Resources’ number that applied to everything from food to lumber to weapons and armour. The only other trackable metrics were a general Security rating, and a Population count, which was currently at 46 - himself, 5 Optios, 40 Tiros.

  Unfortunately after setting up the fort, that resources number did not account for the gear that had been set up, so John’s first order on the Expedition was to send the Veteran squad back to Milltown - a five hour march - to bring a wagon of supplies back while he continued to chop down the nearby trees. By the time they returned that evening, he’d upgraded enough residences to house an entire Century. With the residences done, he gave each Optio commands to get their squads to brainstorm names for the fort.

  Jack had taken to drilling the troops down on the beach, the ones that weren’t on guard, and soon a rotation was enacted: One squad would perform guard duty, two squads would perform drills, while the last two rested. John gradually gained experience in his Centurion class as the Tiros got better at their formations - with Carpenter rolling over 20 from his logging efforts, he also gained a new skill.

  He felt a burst of pride as two Optios worked together to corral their squads into a combined formation. It was nothing complex, just the first squad in front with spears and shields, the squad behind throwing javelins over their heads. They were using branches instead of their actual javelins, but this drill was more about the formation than target practice.

  The formation moved as one undisciplined mass, not quite up to what John was hoping for, but at least nobody was tripping over anyone else. The line in front thrusted their spears in relative unison, then shuffled forwards, shields held high. The javelineers threw their weapons, then stepped in behind as they drew new ones from their limited quivers. When they reached their last, Jack called out, and the lines switched - the front line jabbed with their spears, then the back line jabbed over their shoulders. The back turned their shields to be able to sneak through the gaps in the line, and then the front line halted, allowing the rear line to push forwards and take their place. The cycle repeated until both lines were out of javelins and sweating, then Jack bid them sprint back to the start and repeat it. Throughout the day, he saw them get drilled in formations, movement, and to Jack’s credit, how to close their line if one of the squad members falls.

  He returned to cutting down trees, and found a half squad of Tiros following him. He ignored them, sunken into his work as he was. He chopped a tree, a Tiros scrambled over it all removing branches, then the other 3 heaved and huffed and dragged it back to camp, speeding up his progress by leaps and bounds. Soon, another Tiro joined him in chopping after opening a modest class chest and retrieving another axe and the progress sped up even more.

  Some proactive Tiros had managed to hunt a low-level deer, and one of the Tiros had gotten a secondary Cook class and was spit-roasting the creature. John felt pride as his Legion began to come together, began to show their worth - though George was a better cook, this deer was seasoned with local herbs, and was a much better meal than his friend's first attempt at camp cooking.

  John was settled in at the southern gate while he ate away from the troops, reflecting on his progress so far and his new skills from the day's work that would make it all much easier.

  You have gained the class skill: Blueprint

  Blueprint (Basic Class Skill | Upgradable)

  Grants the ability to create and read Woodworking Blueprints. Blueprints created by the skill-holder cannot be used by the skill-holder to improve the level or quality of crafted items or structures. Blueprints used will syphon 1% of the crafting experience from the crafter to the creator of the Blueprint.

  You have gained the class skill: Forced March

  Forced March (Very Rare Class Skill | Upgradable)

  Grants the ability to deploy your units on a Forced March. A Forced March will allow your formation to move at a 50% higher rate of speed, limited by the boosted speed of the slowest unit within the formation. After 6 Hours, Stamina Points will be spent to continue, limited by the SP total of the slowest unit within the formation. After 12 hours, Health Points will be spent to continue, limited by the HP total of the slowest unit within the formation.

  The Fort continued to expand and be fortified as John awaited his next batch of trainees.

  Miriam barged into the Clan House, hair askew and a manic look on her face.

  Dalton and Mitchell looked over from the small side table where a stack of papers were scattered. “Alright, Advisor, it’s my turn. How the hell do I upgrade a skill? My status says it's upgradable but

  “Your Mastery Skill, I presume? Have you reached level 50?”

  “31” Miriam spat. “I’ve been churning out basic spells like it’s nobody’s business. I gained two levels off creating a Mind Bolt spell. I have the bolts. All of them. I have three new skills. I can finally do whatever wizard stuff I want. My mana comes back faster, hits harder, and I can do this now.” With a flash of pale-blue light, Miriam vanished.

  Then she slammed the door open again.

  Dalton continued to look at the papers. “I see you gained Blink Step. Very useful skill, though the actual spell is more useful. In terms of your mastery: If it’s basic elemental cantrips or class skills, sure. Do you have a shadow bolt? Have you looked into the Uncommon versions of those bolts, like Flamethrower or Ice Spike?” The Advisor challenged.

  Miriam blinked, cursed, then stormed off, muttering about basic reciprocity and counter-elements. “I’ll be back at level 50!”

  The Page blinked. “Did she just go back in time or something?”

  Dalton let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, wouldn’t that be nice? No, Blink step is a movement skill. Most classes gain different types of skills, but almost all combat classes gain some sort of movement skill as their level 25 bonus.

  Mitchell sighed. “She just won’t stop.”

  Dalton nodded. “It’s understandable. She’s going after the low hanging fruit - I’ll see if I can’t nudge her towards resistance spells next. This is common in casters without pre-ordained spell lists.”

  “Shouldn’t she work on enchanting? Keep the classes equal?”

  Dalton shrugged. “Normally yes, but she overlaps. The more complex spells she creates, the more complex enchantments she gets a head start on. If she made a Lightning Totem enchantment, it would likely give her 4 or 5 enchanting levels. So I’d say just let her keep cooking up spells.”

  “Now that I think about it… where has she been working? We fixed the mill she was using, and even before that she was just avoiding SIngh in there. Can we make her a tower or something? I feel like she should get a tower.”

  Dalton’s eyes were focussed on the parchment before them. “Wizard towers unlock when you get either a source of stone or a persistent trade of stone. Without incoming resources, a lot of your functions are locked. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a War fought between F-Rank, unlevelled towns before.”

  Mitchell sighed. “Alright. Keep going then, you were talking about taxation brackets?”

  Daltons eyes lit up just as Mitchell’s soul died just a little.

  Ezekiel caught himself thinking of home, and was shocked when he realised it was his cabin in Old Mill Town that had taken the place of his ratty apartment from Before. The cabins were odd little examples of the System casually breaking the laws of physics - they were instanced. When he got to ‘his’ cabin, he would place his hand on the door, file through the now familiar list of residences that popped up in a System dialogue until he reached his own name, then select that one.

  He’d tried entering another residence, just to get a sense of his own security, but it had flatly told him that access was denied. The people living in the cabins had shortly erected small mailboxes outside, and a primitive system of mail delivery had been born.

  Yet despite technically sharing a building with others, his own cabin was clean and sparsely decorated. It was quiet, and when he opened the windows, a fresh breeze drifted through. The building was surprisingly well built, lacking any sort of draft and having 3 entire rooms to himself - a bathroom, a small room with a basic cot, and a larger room that connected to the entry-way and the other two. This larger room was empty of furniture, and the bathroom lacked soap or towels as he had yet to buy them, but it was all his. No rent. No landlords or HOA’s. No noisy upstairs neighbour, or weird smells, or climbing up stairs to circumvent a five year broken elevator. No sketchy parking garage, or failing AC, or…

  Well, it was no more. Now it was the day to day struggle mixed with the simple yet mouth watering foods. It was a path through a forest that was older and more grown than any he’d ever seen, hiding both beauty and terror among its boughs. It was here, and now, and it was wonderful in spite of its harshness. Ezekiel breathed deeply, still not used to the sweetness of the air despite all the time gone by. With a brief glance backwards to ensure he’d arrived at the right tree, he drew the small knife he’d brought for this purpose, scratched a symbol into the trunk, and looked around for his next canvas upon which to denote his Path.

  Miriam grumbled to herself as she followed the river north to the flat rock she’d been using as a desk.. It was not a common thing for her, but the utter of that-

  No. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out. The man had a point. It was not his fault that she had expected an answer to her own question rather than more questions. He was right, anyhow - she hadn’t even considered the idea of non-standard bolts outside of the brief moment she entertained creating some sort of Mind Bolt spell.

  So, she started on the suggested one. A Shadow Bolt. She brought up the basic Mana Dart in her mind’s eye to begin with.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  It was a simple spell, despite the amount of arrays that went into it. She recalled when she’d had trouble with this not a few days ago, but at this point it was almost effortless to focus on the entirety of the spell’s structure. Side-by-side with the Fire Dart, the two spells looked almost identical, save for the one small array in the middle that changed the basic Mana into Fire Mana.

  First, a gathering array and a targeting array, to ensure the magic came from herself instead of anything else - she knew for a fact she could change that target, but every time she had tried the spells had failed, and she’d put a pin in that line of thinking for now until she gathered a deeper understanding of what made Mana into a certain type or not.

  Second, a focussing array and nearly blank array that functioned as a battery to hold onto the energy while the rest of the spell completed. This, too, she had adjusted, though making the energy level bigger shattered the structure, and making it smaller meant the spell fizzled before the Dart fired. Neither outcome was ideal.

  Finally, the fifth, sixth, and seventh arrays were all based around targeting, shaping, and launching that energy in Dart form at the intended target. With all of her experiments, the only array she could replace with the Fire or any other reflavouring pattern was the targeting array - just inserting 'Fire' without changing or removing anything had created quite the explosion.

  When she activated that set of seven arrays, that spell, the first array asked the second where to get the energy from, and the second said ‘from the caster, of course’. The first array understood that, and gathered enough MP to power the array, which was quantified by a small symbol in the first pattern. She had the rest of the symbols to make it bigger or smaller within her Tome, but ran into the same fizzle-explosion problem when she’d adjusted it. Spells were finely balanced and finicky to adjust, it seemed.

  Then the MP came from her through the third array, and the third took it all, squished it, then shoved it into the fourth, which was happy to hold on to it for her. Then it was almost an instant where a small portion of that mana was fed through a bypass of the fifth array to activate the sixth and seventh. The sixth was like a funnel further compressing the Mana, and the seventh was what launched the result of the previous 6, but the fifth…

  The fifth array took its own miniscule tendril of mana and beamed it out into the world, looking for a target. If it didn’t find one, the fifth array would go inert - that was why she had originally had an easy time of things, as in all of her practice, the fifth array had never done anything recognizable until she’d fired the spell at the Raccans and discovered the minor tracking that the Mana Dart had.

  Now though, she almost absentmindedly inserted a less simple array in place of the fifth tracking array, and went on a tirade of frustrated yet relieved curses as entire levels came flowing into her.

  New Spell Learned: Light Dart (Uncommon)

  Looks like the Advisor was worth his salt. She got back to work, happy to know that of everyone, her progress in her class was the fastest.

  George's eyes were wide with wonder, even as his instincts pushed him to find his cat.

  “Good morning, thanks for the place to stay, ” George fired out in rapid succession.

  The tree laughed. “Oh, your cloud-cat is safe. He speaks quite contradictingly of you, by the way. You are both servant and master to him, and he minds not the arrangement.”

  “Where is he?” George growled.

  “We spoke last night. He agreed to relax in a proper feline lounge for the morning, to help prevent you from reneging on our accord. I had overmuch time to ponder the precise wording of our accord, and found it wanting. Regardless, morning has arrived and found you rested, and we have a discussion to commence with.” The tree opened its mouth, but it just hung open and did not move with the words that came out. As it ceased speaking, the mouth creaked closed and the eyes stared unblinking at him.

  George was more than a little unnerved, and wondered why in the hell he’d decided this was a safe place to stay the night, but it was too late now.

  “Just… let’s talk hypothetically for a moment: If I did want to leave right now, would we not have already conversed?”

  The tree’s mouth creaked open again. “Hypothetical?”

  George shuffled on his feet. “Uhh… yea. Like make-believe. Like in this case, I don’t precisely want to leave, but I’m asking you to imagine a situation where I did.”

  The corners of the tree-mouth turned downwards, and George fought off a shiver of unease. “That would be unpleasant. I would be forced to restrain you in order to fulfil the accord.”

  George nodded, not betraying his unease. “Of course, it’d only be natural. But what if you couldn’t keep me here, and I got away?”

  The mouth’s frown deepened. “That would be quite unfortunate for your feline companion. I would be forced to… Well, may I ask a hypothetical question in return? Why must we discuss this unpleasant situation when you have agreed to converse with me? Have you found regret buried in your decision?”

  George blinked, fighting off the urge to run. “I have.” George answered plainly. “But not so much to risk making an enemy of you.”

  The frown straightened out. “Fortuitous! I have many questions of this world and its peoples, and would see them answered.”

  George sighed and let his shoulders slump. “Until noon, yes. I will answer your questions honestly. Though if you are unaware, standing still for so long is not comfortable to a human. I may have to recuse myself fo-”

  George stumbled back as something hard pushed against the back of his knee, and the fall was arrested by a curved branch that nestled underneath him in the form of - “Huh. Nevermind, I guess.”

  “I hope you find it comfortable.” The tree said flatly.

  “Err…” George looked down at the woven chair of roots and dirt. “Sure, it’s comfy enough for a few hours.”

  There was a humming noise from the tree. “Com-fee? Comfy. I find this shortening of words intriguing. Does it mean anything different than the root word comfortable?”

  George blinked. This… creature? Entity? It was odd. “I don’t think so, no. It’s just an informal way of saying comfortable.”

  “Comfy. Yes, that will do. Now tell me, Master Ranger who Hunts: How did you stumble across my grove? Tell me your tale.”

  George had only the briefest moment of hesitation, before he responded with his own question. “I would be happy to, though may I ask a question or two in advance? I think it may be important to clear the air on certain things.”

  The tree hummed again, delighted. “Clear the air. It makes no sense in your context, yet I somehow know that you mean to reach an accord on certain conversational topics before we expand our interaction. Very well, Master Ranger. Ask your questions.”

  George was beginning to grow resistant to the off-kilter speech, and started to relax. “Well, first, my name is not Master, Hunter, or Ranger. My name is George Lopez, and around two, maybe three weeks ago, I was not a Hunter or Ranger of any sort, but a simple factory labourer. Could I have your name?”

  The tree froze in motion. George leaned forward towards it. “Uh, hello? Are you still there?”

  The tree's mouth opened… then opened more, and more, until George’s brain threw a switch that told him ‘This is very Not Good you should be Not Here’. The growing opening hit the dirt floor of the grove and stopped, revealing naught but a dark hole in the side of the tree.

  Then a figure emerged, and George’s breath caught.

  Standing at roughly the height of a bicycle, a humanoid figure made of smooth, flowing wood took a tentative, shaky step out of the hole. It’s feet were intricate woven tripods, three digits extending down from a slender leg. The legs came up to a gnarled, twisting torso, from which emerged two long, spindly arms covered in various assorted flowers. A flowing mass of vines and leaves approximated a head, and the figure brushed vines away with one of those too-long arms, revealing a face carved from a flat piece of wood, though the detail was so incredibly intricate it was almost as if he were looking at a person carved of wood. It had high cheekbones and a pointed chin, and a pair of hardened amber eyes.

  Then the figure took another step, and that image was dispelled at its too-smooth gait, and George confirmed this thing was very much not human, and not like a human.

  “You have given a great gift to me unsolicited, Ranger, and so I reveal to you my true form. I must warn you to show great caution with other nature spirits - a name holds power unfathomed. I hope you find this gift of equal value.” The woven roots spread their flower-covered arms wide, as if showing off.

  George closed his gaping mouth. Giant coyotes and powered up wolves weren’t too odd. Raccoon people were a bit stranger, but close enough. A walking, talking tree? That was a bit beyond the level of absurdity where his brain could just breeze over it. “Uh… so you’re a tree?”

  The figure chuckled. “I did not present this form to you so lightly. Use your skill of true-seeing, as all of you get, and find the truth.”

  George almost absently activated his Identify skill, then flinched at the result.

  Kami of the Forest Glade (Escarpment)

  Level 88

  “Fuck me, you’re strong.” He let slip, slapping his hand over his mouth right after. “Uh, I mean, you are a great and wise spirit.”

  The figure “To you, I must appear quite strong indeed - yet I am tied to my grove, and it to me. Nevertheless, consider this an adequate reciprocation for the sharing of your name. Along with that, I vow to not use your name malignantly.”

  George nodded, still reeling slightly. “What should I call you, then?”

  A hum. “You can call me… Comfy. I aim to bring comfort to those who enter my grove in peace, and so I have chosen.”

  Truly enough, the information George saw changed before his eyes, the letters scrambling and rearranging as if rolling down from a slot wheel.

  Comfy, Kami of the Forest Glade (Escarpment)

  Level 89

  George let out a slow breath. “Alright, Comfy. My second question before I tell you my tale: How far does your grove extend, and does every tree have someone like you watching over it? If so, we were unaware and plead forgiveness for our logging oper-”

  The Kami laughed fully, a grinding, popping sound that seemed to emanate from the figure's entire body. “Logging? I implore you not to insult me. All plants grow, live, then die. It is inevitable. If some plants die soon, that too is something you Systemized people deal with, isn’t it?”

  George nodded in agreement. “Life is not so friendly as I’d wish for.”

  The figure waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Worry not. My grove extends from the cliff to the fresh sea, though right now I am only strong enough for the surrounding trees. As I grow, so too will my grove, and thus my own power to protect it. It is not something I worry about, for it is also inevitable. Why should I begrudge you using the same resources as I? I digress, as my domain grows so too shall grow the trees.”

  George paused to parse that last sentence. “Alright. Well, that’s all I wanted to clear up, so I guess I’ll start at the beginning. It was a morning like any other, but I awoke to a System notification - the first I’d ever seen, telling me we had a week until the Tutorial started…”

  “We?”

  “Yes, I have a few friends who are currently building a town about a day's journey to the north. They were with me when we entered the Tutorial, and it’s been a fight ever since, but we’ve managed to carve out a small spot for ourselves upriver, but that’s skipping ahead. We regrouped and began to make our way to the closest water source…”

  George spared no detail, something about speaking to a friendly creature of a higher level made it easy for him to relax and let his guard down. He spoke of their fight with the Spinebear Cub at the Old Mill, of making a small camp, of Mitchell’s departure and return with the dungeon chest. He spoke of Singh and his group, of Ezekiel, and of Kyla. He told the tale of their siege against the Raccans. He told of their attempts to keep the people fed. He finished off with a recounting of his scouting mission, and when he was done, he looked up to see the sun well past noon.

  Comfy listened intently the entire time, and asked a few clarifying questions.

  “...so yea, that leads us to now. We were just running from the Khanclave when I found your grove, and saw it as a good place to hide for the night while I healed up.”

  The forest spirit nodded - a gesture that George had taught her in the course of the conversation. “You have had many trials and tribulations, and come out alive. Is this something you are proud of and wish to continue? Or something you wish never happened?”

  George gave a half-smile and shrugged. “I don’t know. I do know I’d never want to go back to how I was, but at the same time… I miss being comfortable.”

  “Did you not say earlier that I had provided comfortable seating?”

  He laughed. “Yes, yes I did! But not that type of comfort. I mean more… like this morning. I’m not worried about much. Nimbus is safe, the town’s being looked after, you’re strong enough to stop anything from hurting us, I guess it’s just nice to be able to let my guard down, you know?”

  Comfy hummed in her wooden way. “My question still stands.”

  George sighed. “Yea, I guess I am proud of it. I’m strong too, and we probably give the people in our town comfort in the same way you’ve given it to me. If I can do that for someone, that makes me happy, so I’m proud. The trials could come less often, though. I’ve barely had time to work on the things I enjoy.”

  "What is it that you enjoy, George of Lopez?" Comfy asked, and George had gathered enough about her entirely unshielded mannerisms to tell she was genuinely curious.

  The man still had to chuckle at the way she said his name. "I'm a simple guy. I like to cook food for my friends, and have them enjoy it. I like to spend time with Nimbus, look after him and fix up his fur when it gets all knotted." He paused for a moment before mentally shrugging. "I enjoy companionship and a warm body in my bed. I enjoy the smiles and laughter of those I care for. I enjoy... well, life, I guess. Yet all we've been doing lately is fighting and hunting and war and I'm just starting to get sick of it all."

  “Then a gift, for staying with me past the limits of our accord. Should you wish it, I believe I can influence your next skill. I have not done it before, but I feel a connection to you, George Lopez. Will you accept my gift?”

  George smiled at the Kami. She seemed young, despite her clear age and experience. “Sure, I guess-urk!”

  Comfy looked sad, even as her arm was extended and the tips of her fingers punctured George’s stomach. He looked down, unbelieving. He hadn’t even seen her move, and the arm was pulsing, pumping something into him, and then it retracted and he was falling from his seat into darkness, the last thing on his conscious mind the stream of Level Up notifications that almost seemed to chase him down to the ground, followed by one more that he got halfway through reading before passing out.

  You have gained the class skill: Treestrider

  Treestrider (Uncommon Class Skill | Upgradable)

  Grants the ability to mark trees as significant, and travel between significant trees with MP. The number of trees that can be marked increases at one per each 10 levels in the class that granted this skill.

  Current Tree Limit: 2

  Significant Trees: 1

  Obligatory Patreon shout-out so I can hopefully write this (and potentially other works!) full time instead of having to go to an office for 45 hours a week. There's so many more chapters I could write in that time!