Finalizing the one-time contract was simple. Sarnaan was a Notary.

Krow certified that the younger three knew what they were doing, and Gysavur stamped their local hunting licenses.

Afterward, they got a private room at the tavern to celebrate.

Buri, who was today’s bartender, snorted when he ordered young cider and honeycakes. “Come down later, have a proper drink.”

“I’m not sure if I can call anything you drink ‘proper’.

The other laughed, but he sent a cask of one of their finer ciders just the same.

Krow knew that because his suspicions were roused when Talebrech’s eyebrows jumped briefly to his hairline at the sight of the cask.. Then the boy sipped with almost reverent slowness at his cup, which was confirmation.

The young cider was cool, refreshing, not too sweet, light with a hint of sour.

The perfect accompaniment to the honeycakes and dried fruit piled onto a platter on their table.

Bread wasn’t a draculkar staple but, this close to the kingdom border, nearly half the people in the village weren’t draculkar.

Krow let the five children bond with each other on the other side of the room, and sat beside Amaleo.

The old mafmet had also passed on the cakes. Krow nudged a small plate of dried fruit closer.

Amaleo nodded his thanks, and bit into a fig. “It was a more successful hunt than I imagined.”

“You thought it wouldn’t succeed? I’m offended.”

The old mafmet huffed. “Your village head implied that we would be accompanied by this place’s premier hunter. If you were told that and presented a brat as young as you, you’d be doubtful too.”

Krow laughed. Yeah, that was fair. “The village head exaggerates. I got lucky a few times, is all. Besides, this is an herb-growing village. Much of the game they hunt are ordinary beasts.”

“Luck is also a part of skill.” Amaleo sighed after saying that. “So. You are, in essence, the village’s only hunt leader.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a hunter. Not yet.”

Especially since he’d checked the updated list of subclasses and there still wasn’t an entry for ‘hunter’. The closest was the Druid battleclass, which had many similarities to the character class called ‘ranger’ in other games but with greater emphasis on nature-based abilities.

“I wonder,” the mafmet slanted a look at him. “Would you mind a similar arrangement as today, but on a longer term?”

Oh, the universe was still not done offering him minions.

No, wait. As mere tagalongs, they wouldn’t advance any of his subclasses. So, useless minions.

Except Amaleo, who he actually wanted to hire to protect his apprentices.

How did Atimur’s mother even know the village head had a dilemma like that? Krow supposed he still had too low RP in the village to be part of the regular gossip circles.

Still, Amaleo was looking for a babysitter, not an employer.

Suffice to day, he was reluctant.

“They conducted themselves well, this day. If they keep to the fringes of the Forest, they’d be able to deal with most of the monsters they encounter.”

“It does them no favor to over-praise. If you had not been thinning the herd, they would not have done as well.”

Well, they were only…fifteen at most?

For fifteen, they were excellent.

“I taught them as well as I could, on the road,” Amaleo continued. “But not, I think, as well as the one who taught you.”

Krow’s lips quirked briefly.

Who taught him…

No one did.

Or rather, multiple people did, but he didn’t have a master.

As a Leatherworker, he periodically was attached to travel with hunting teams on long expeditions. Armor, clothing, accessories – he was repairman and tailor all at once.

Years of tagging along with master foresters, apothecaries, scouts, and he gained enough skill and knowledge to take the mastery exams on forestry.

Then Amaleo’s words processed.

“Wait, you’re a Forester?” Krow re-evaluated what he’d seen of the old mafmet so far. Several things stood out immediately, now that he was looking. “You’re a master forester.”

He’d caught glimpses of the way the old mafmet had strode through the woods, silent and alert, as if he was flowing through the forest. That could only be mastery of the major wright-rank skill ‘Stag-Blessed’.

He hadn’t prcessed what he’d seen because, at the time, he was distracted with keeping an eye out. Even with Monstrepel Sachets, his apprentices were loud.

Loud enough to attract predatory attention. They hadn’t learned stealth in a forest yet.

He’d worried so much, all three ghosts out and straining his MP, that his Scout promoted to wright-rank, in fact.

Not important at the moment.

Because, really?

“Seriously, how? Mafmet are city people, burghers and urbanites, and Themlef is a desert! How are you a forester?”

He’d never have guessed. Mafmet normally went into smithing and engineering, with trade and combat as secondary choices. But forestry?

The old mafmet chuffed in amusement.

“I became a soldier at a very young age,” he said. “Most of my life, I was stationed in Rombe.”

The Rombe junglewoods were pretty famous, Krow acknowledged silently. Like the Grandshield Forest, it was a prime monster hunter location, though more famous for Heal potion ingredients.

“Have you mastered soldiery as well?”

“I never was an officer,” snorted the mafmet.

That’s not what I meant, though.”

The old mafmet made a wordless sound, but didn’t elaborate. It didn’t seem that he wanted to talk about it, so Krow dropped the questioning.

There were two ways to master the soldier subclass. The first was to become an officer. The other was to gain 100% skillmastery in at least two apprentice skills.

For a player, the first was easier. The game just tossed opportunities in the paths of players, so most wouldn’t stagnate in their ranks for long.

Mafmet lifespan averaged at 200 years. If Amaleo said he spent most of his life in Rombe, whoa. That meant he’d taken an army contract. Most soldier contracts for the longer-lived races locked in a duration of 50-75 years, with a 50 year reserve.

It wasn’t inconceivable that he’d mastered soldiery using the second path.

A master forester and possibly a master soldier.

Krow’s mind whirled, a little stunned.

He sipped his cider, pushing away the ideas in his head for the moment.

“Why did you cross the mountains?” He asked, curious. “If you just wanted distance from the conflict, then you could’ve stopped at any town between here and Themlef, any village in the eastern border.”

No getting around it, Amaleo was old. It would’ve been easier to stay in the east.

“I could have,” Amaleo agreed. “But the children were not ready.”

They needed a goal to slowly chip away at their grief, the mafmet didn’t say. Krow…understood.

“I met the son of an old friend, a siren,” continued the older. “I was traveling to meet her.”

Tsk.

That’s that plan scrapped.

They weren’t staying.

“How long are you planning on staying in Cerkanst, then?”

There was a contemplative silence. “I should still send a missive, perhaps visit. But she would not expect to host the children.”

Or maybe not completely scrapped.

Amaleo was wavering between a decision to stay or not.

Cerkanst was remarkably accepting of other races, for an isolated draculkar village. It was idyllic, close to a trade center for emergencies, but far enough away that it would be uninteresting to an army.

Krow nodded.

“Would you consider, in the meantime, taking an apprentice?” If he became apprentice to the mafmet, then wouldn’t that mean he’d have enough of a connection to the guy’s other apprentices that they wouldn’t be useless minions anymore?

Amaleo blinked slowly.

“I’m technically qualified for wright, as a forester, but the teachings of a master is always useful. An apprenticeship contract would solve a few problems.”

Mainly, the question of trust.

A Contract was magically binding. There were a lot of protections already built into the standard master-apprentice Contract that could be used to simplify a long-term hunting cooperation Contract with the mafmet and his kids.

Amaleo let out a sound of intrigue. “I’m not too familiar with the intricacies of stacking Contracts.”

Krow wasn’t either. “Sounds like we should talk to Sarnaan again.”

The other agreed.

They said goodbye to Talebrech and walked Atimur home before heading to the First Tower. While Amaleo sent the rest of the kids to rest, Krow accosted the tower greeter.

Sarnaan looked fascinated with their required contract.

“I’ve stacked Contracts before,” she said, “But not basing off of an apprenticeship. I’ll have to check my old master’s journals.”

“There is no hurry,” Amaleo assured her.

“You can review the apprenticeship agreements tomorrow. The rest of it though, I think you’ll need to talk to the village head first.”

Amaleo nodded. “To be expected.”

Krow groaned inwardly. He’d nearly forgotten. All taxable endeavors must go through the appropriate government officials, in this case, the village head.

He should just be thankful it wasn’t a larger town or city, where they’d be forced to meet with multiple officials.

Gysavur was surprised to see them again so soon.

Upon hearing what they wanted, he was silent for a moment. Then abruptly, he chuckled. “Interesting.”

[Your local Reputation has increased to 1000! The people of Cerkanst now consider you to be Friendly!]

“That’s alarming,” Krow informed him.

Yesterday, his RP was only just past 950. Even with him accepting the quest to test the young hunters, he wasn’t expecting to advance into the next RP tier today. Not even tomorrow.

“What he said,” Sarnaan followed up. “Village head, that’s your plotting voice.”

Amaleo’s brows slowly rose in amused curiosity.