Valkyrie's Shadow

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 2, Chapter 3

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 2, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“Wah! Something just licked my leg!”

Glasir jumped in fright at Countess Wagner’s shout. The Human Lord’s wavy blonde hair tossed back and forth as she hopped about, her gaze focused on the floorboards around her feet. Her eyes finally settled on the Warden for some reason.

“It wasn’t me,” the Warden said.

“I didn’t say it was you,” Countess Wagner replied. “Why would you assume that I would assume that it was you?”

“You’ve been acting rather strange since I returned from the Empire, Liane…”

“N-no I haven’t.”

The Countess sat back down again. A moment later, she jumped back up.

“I swear something touched my leg again!”

“It’s one of the plants,” Glasir said.

“The plants?” Countess Wagner frowned, “Which one?”

“That one,” Glasir pointed.

The Human Lords nearby looked in the direction of her gesture, where several pots were arranged on a bench near where they were seated in the Warden’s magic solarium.

“I don’t see anything…” Baroness Gagnier said.

“Neither do I,” Countess Corelyn leaned forward.

“It’s called a Ghost Tongue,” Glasir explained. “A vine with concealment skills.”

“Wh-what?” Countess Wagner eyed her surroundings suspiciously, “Why would a vine have concealment skills?”

That was a strange question. If something had concealment skills it was because it used them for something.

“Because it’s helpful?” Glasir said, “It won’t get attacked if it isn’t seen and it can collect food safely. You can see that the area around its pot is all clear.”

The two-metre-wide area around the pot in question was the only place that Glasir didn’t have to keep clean. Countess Wagner backed away from it.

“So that empty pot has a plant called a ‘Ghost Tongue’ in it,” she said. “But why would it go after me? Florine has more–”

Baroness Gagnier smiled. Countess Wagner cleared her throat.

“Ahem, Florine was as close to it as I was.”

Why didn’t she believe her? There was no point in making up a lie like that. Glasir steepled her fingers and closed her eyes, casting one of her Spell-like Abilities, Speak With Plants.

It’s safe, you can show yourself.

The Ghost Tongue shed its concealment, revealing a pair of smooth, woody vines draped over the rim of the pot. One of them had snaked over to the floor near Countess Wagner’s ankle. The slender Human Lord stared down at the leaf-shaped pad at the end of the vine, which was feeling its way towards her.

“Why is it coming after me?” She asked.

“Because you’re both the same,” the Warden’s lips turned up slightly.

“Wha?”

“You’re Liane,” Countess Corelyn joined in the Warden’s mirth.

Was that funny? It was pretty funny.

“Th-that’s not funny,” Countess Wagner pouted.

“Yes, it is.”

The Countess sighed, watching the vine as it tasted the tips of her toes. Since Glasir said it was safe, it had grown less timid in its movements.

“Don’t tell me you have these things all over the forest waiting to sneak up on people and lick them,” Countess Wagner said.

“It’s one of the plants Lord Mare brought over,” the Warden replied. “I haven’t seen any of them before, but they all have interesting characteristics.”

“‘Interesting’…woah! Florine! Are you okay?!”

“I’m alright.”

While Countess Wagner noted that the vine was only going after her, that wasn’t the case at all. The second vine of the Ghost Tongue stretched over the floor, disappearing into Baroness Gagnier’s long skirts. Countess Corelyn’s mouth fell open.

“How are you not screaming from that?” She shivered.

“I thought it was something like a snake at first,” Baroness Gagnier said, “but animals can react poorly if you move suddenly. All it’s doing is rubbing my legs so I decided to not make a fuss.”

Countess Corelyn made a squeamish noise, rising to her feet and hiding behind the Warden. Countess Wagner looked back down to the vine at her feet, which was now wrapped around her ankle.

“This is your fault, Florine.”

“What is?”

“You let it lick you and then it got brave enough to come after me too!”

“That’s probably correct,” Baroness Gagnier nodded. “But it also means that this plant has a degree of intelligence. There wouldn’t be anything dangerous in Ludmila’s home.”

“Ludmila is in Ludmila’s home.”

Baroness Gagnier rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to Glasir.

“So is there a reason why these plants are being grown here, Glasir?” She asked, “What does this one do?”

Glasir reached into her bag, pulling out a notepad. She flipped through the pages until she found the part with the Ghost Tongue.

“Lord Mare had some ideas,” she said, “but it’s not big enough for most of them yet. Let’s see…at this size, it can clean the surroundings. Also, plant therapy.”

“Plant therapy?” Baroness Gagnier asked, “What’s that?”

“Uh…something about plants being able to calm people down and help them relax. Lord Mare said that Humans have gardens and parks where they go to do that. They take sick people to green places to help them heal. Humans also like standing around trees and walking around or touching the grass. We can improve the experience by having the grass touch them instead. Well, a vine in this case. He says that people like being touched if it feels comforting to them, so the Ghost Tongue is an ideal candidate.”

“How can Lord Mare be so right and so wrong at the same time?” Countess Wagner furrowed her brow, “Right, Florine?”

“Well…”

“Oh, come on!”

“It’s weird because it’s new to us,” Baroness Gagnier said, “but I can understand the feeling behind it. Once you’ve become used to it…it’s not strong enough to be a massage…maybe it’s like a small animal touching you? Unlike an animal, this one cleans up messes instead of making them. You just have to move it to a different spot once in a while.”

The Ghost Tongue could actually be pretty strong, but it usually stuck to what it was doing to the two Human Lords. After all, it only needed to use enough strength to forage for food.

“Ah, it will move around on its own,” Glasir said.

“What!” Countess Wagner squawked.

“Once it gets big enough, it can use its vines to relocate to another foraging spot.”

Countess Wagner gave the vines a dubious look.

“So you’ll have a stealthy plant crawling around your home.”

“Like a cat,” Baroness Gagnier offered, “but it’s a plant?”

“Not really,” Glasir said. “When it matures, it’s just a bit dumber than a Goblin, so it’s smarter than a cat. A plant that’s like a Magic Beast.”

“Oh, it’s magic now,” Countess Wagner muttered. “I can’t be the only one that thinks this is terrifying. What does Lord Mare plan on doing with these? Sell them to people who want a combination house cleaner-leg licker?”

“Something about friendly roaming urban maintenance,” Glasir said. “Most races don’t naturally see plants as threats, so they become neutral to them once they’re recognised as harmless.”

“What about races that eat plants?”

“Oh, they can be eaten too.”

The Human Lord frowned at her reply. Was there something wrong with it?

“But it’s an intelligent plant.”

“It’s still a plant,” Glasir shrugged. “Edible plants are used to being foraged on. Most have traits and strategies that take advantage of it, like having seeds in edible fruit that the foragers deposit elsewhere.”

“Does that mean you don’t mind being eaten, either?”

“I’m a nature spirit, not a plant…but I can be eaten. I don’t mind if I can afford it. I sold a sample of my sap to the Faculty of Alchemy…they tried making syrup out of it.”

Countess Wagner leaned forward with sudden interest.

“…did it work?”

“Yeah. It took one jar to get one spoon, though. Miss LeNez went all funny in the head a while after having a taste, so the leftovers are restricted to non-oral-study-only right now.”

“Y’know, Ludmila,” Countess Wagner said, “it started as a joke, but she really is your kid. Crazy things come out of her mouth as if they’re normal. Then again, she’s not part of our plains faction…maybe it’s from Lord Mare’s side? Does that mean Lady Aura will be–ow.”

“What else do these Ghost Tongues do?” Baroness Gagnier’s pleasant smile was at great odds with her acts of violence, “Do they produce any fruit or special products?”

Glasir looked back down at her notes.

“The vines can be pruned, but Lord Mare said we should figure out what sort of uses they have on our own. They get flowers when they eat enough and those flowers turn into fruit, but…”

“But?”

“Lord Mare says the type of fruit that comes out depends on what it eats.”

“…that doesn’t make any sense,” Countess Corelyn said. “Grapes don’t produce anything other than grapes no matter what you do to them.”

It didn’t make any sense to Glasir either, but, at the same time, she sensed that Lord Mare was right. All of the plants that Lord Mare brought to the solarium were the same way: they did strange things that Glasir felt were abnormal and normal at the same time.

“We’ll just have to see,” Glasir replied. “If it happens, it happens.”

“How long until it’s fully grown?”

“I don’t know,” Glasir said. “Lord Mare says it’s not a plant from around here so he doesn’t know what it will do. It seems healthy so far, though.”

“And too damn friendly!” Countess Wagner said, “This thing’s wrapped itself up to my knee so I don’t even want to know what it’s doing to Florine right now.”

The air of the solarium fell still following her remark. Countess Wagner’s gaze slid over to Baroness Gagnier. After several moments she leaned forward and lifted the hem of her dress. Baroness Gagnier slapped her in the back of the head.

“It’s not doing anything to me!” Baroness Gagnier told her, “It’s just wrapped around my leg looking for food. What sort of food does it eat, anyway?”

“Loose debris, small insects that we can’t see, flakes of skin and bits of hair…it’ll pick up anything that it can and see if it can absorb its nutrients.”

“But it’s harmless, yes?” The Warden asked, “It won’t drain what it touches or drink their blood…”

“It’d drink blood if it was on someone’s skin,” Glasir answered. “It won’t hurt people for nutrients, though. Those vines aren’t like my vines.”

Glasir held her arms out loosely, raising the set of parasitic vines that lay over her skin. She gingerly stretched one out towards Baroness Gagnier. The Human Lord eyed the long tendril that was about the width of a finger.

“What happens if I touch it?” She asked.

“Nothing,” Glasir answered, “I can control whether they work or not. Well, most of the time. If something scares me really bad, my body just…”

“I understand,” Baroness Gagnier said, poking the end of a tendril. “How are they used?”

“They just sorta go and touch stuff. I just grew them out so they aren’t strong enough to grab onto things tightly or lift heavy objects. Lord Mare says that if I get strong enough I can do a lot of convenient things with them.”

“What happens when you make them ‘work’?”

“…just a moment.”

She walked over to an open spot on the floor, holding out a hand.

“?Summon Beast I?.”

A Dire Rat manifested in the floorboards in front of her. Its grey-furred form was over a metre long with whiskers each as long as her forearm.

“This summon is about as tough as a weak Human,” Glasir said. “Um…I’ll hit it now.”

Glasir raised one of her parasitic vines, activating its special properties. She flicked the Dire Rat on the nose. The giant rodent let out a squeak and burst into motes of mana. Countess Wagner came up and waved her hand through them.

“What the…are you saying that you can kill one of the villagers just like that?”

“If I want to,” Glasir said. “I don’t want to, though.”

“It wasn’t the physical damage that destroyed the summon,” the Warden said. “Glasir, can you attack me with your vines?”

She stared at the Warden and swallowed.

“But…no, that’s bad!” Panic welled within her, “I-I can’t attack you…”

“I don’t think you’re strong enough to hurt me,” the Warden said. “We need to know what your attacks are composed of, just in case there’s an accident. Nonna, can you come out here for a bit?”

The tapping of the Elder Lich’s bony feet sounded from the nearby administrative office.

“You called, Lady Zahradnik?”

“Have you taken any notes about Glasir’s physical parameters or combat capabilities?”

“Nothing so thorough as to be called a combat assessment. Regulations prohibit Elder Lich administrators from actively experimenting with the citizens.”

“What does a ‘passive experiment’ look like?” Countess Wagner asked.

Nonna turned to silently regard Countess Wagner, the crimson points of light in her eye sockets fixed on the Human Lord.

“We’ll be conducting a short assessment of Glasir’s capabilities,” the Warden said. “To start with, hm…we should see what Level she is.”

“I’m a Level Three Druid,” Glasir said.

“How did you figure that out?” The Warden looked at her curiously.

“Twine Plant,” Glasir replied. “Without any modifiers, the maximum duration is thirty seconds per Druid Level.”

“An astute observation,” Nonna nodded. “This specimen has risen above the veil of nonsensical superstition and vague guesswork that plagues the local population.”

The Elder Lich’s pen scratched over its clipboard. Glasir wasn’t sure whether Nonna was complimenting her or insulting everyone else.

“Why is your Elder Lich so poetic? Countess Wagner said, “Can I apply for one?”

“They’re not eternally unchanging beings, Liane,” the Warden rolled her eyes. “Yours should have developed a unique personality by now.”

“Oh yes,” Baroness Gagnier smirked, “Elf is as precise as one of her machines these days.”

The Warden turned a puzzled look at Countess Wagner.

“Elf?”

“Yeah,” Countess Wagner said. “Elf. As in, ‘eleven’?”

“Ah…they do name the Elder Liches after numbers, don’t they? I can’t wait to hear what they name Elder Lich 1919.”

“Is that just a random number you picked, or…”

“Lady Shalltear said she was waiting for it,” the Warden said. “I’m not sure why, and she won’t tell me.”

Nonna cleared her nonexistent throat. The Warden examined Glasir for a moment.

“I don’t think you’re Level Three, Glasir. Can you check the duration of Twine Plant again?”

“Sure. ?Twine Plant?.”

“Why me?!”

The Ghost Tongue suddenly grew and wrapped itself around Countess Wagner. She squirmed as she tried to break herself free.

“Don’t move, Liane.”

“B-but the licking!”

“You’re a Countess of the Sorcerous Kingdom, Liane,” Baroness Gagnier said. “You need to maintain your dignity and poise.”

“Why do you say that every time you get me into this sort of–mph! Mmph!”

One of the vines covered Countess Wagner’s mouth. Glasir counted off the seconds with her pocket watch. Two minutes later, the entangling vines vanished into thin air.

“Liar,” Countess Wagner mumbled.

“Liane,” Baroness Gagnier said in admonishing tones, “you’re supposed to congratulate her. This means that she’s gained one Druid Class Level, yes?”

“Congratulations, Glasir,” Countess Corelyn smiled.

“Four more Druid Class Levels and you’ll be able to cast Second-tier spells,” the Warden said. “Was there something you wanted to learn first?”

Never mind wanting to learn anything first, her Lizardman instructors had a whole pile of spells that they asserted were all essential for Druids.

“My instructors want me to learn a bunch of things first,” Glasir said. “Do I have to do it their way?”

“What spells did they want you to learn?”

“Cure Disease, Cure Poison, Lesser Restoration, Temperature Change, Soften Earth and Stone, Heat Metal, Resist Energy, Summon Paper II, Summon Beast II…um, there are a lot. It’ll take a long time to learn everything they said to.”

“I can see why they would instruct their apprentices to learn those,” the Warden said. “They are all useful for maintaining a community’s health and well-being. Some of them can be life-saving spells. I think the villagers here would appreciate that you’ve learned them, but what was it that you wanted to learn?”

She agreed that being helpful would be good. It also meant she could earn more, as well. Glasir still didn’t have many things that she wanted to buy, but people said saving up was wise. Out of the spells prescribed by her Druid instructors, several overlapped with her eventual goals.

While Summon Beast I wasn’t so great, higher versions of the spell would be useful and one learned them in order.

People were getting more interested in magical products so many were encouraged to follow routes that led to the production of magic items. Several Lizardman Druids – including Fesres – were promoting the development of conjuration spells to produce valuable commodities to raise the prosperity levels of the village.

Seemingly everything was a good idea but time to learn new spells was limited…well, a nature spirit didn’t die of old age so Glasir had all the time in the world. For the time being, she thought it would be best to just go along and meet the needs of the mortals. Once she learned those spells, she could learn whatever she wanted. Now that the Warden had asked, however, she felt that maybe it was okay to want something for herself.

As a Dryad, protecting her tree was a priority. Even if there were crazy powerful things everywhere already, not having at least a few spells to fight with would be shameful. Rock Burst, Dessicate and Flaming Sphere were the foremost candidates in mind for personal combat.

Alternatively, she could prioritise control, learning spells like Hold, Spike Growth, and Web. Since there were many strong allies in Warden’s Vale, she could just make it quicker and easier for them to deal with problems. If she thought of things that way, Glasir could learn support spells that improved the performance of her allies and debilitating spells to hamper any intruders.

There were many ways to fight. When it came to the defence of her tree and its surroundings, all sorts of ideas naturally flowed out of her mind. At the same time, she wasn’t sure if she would ever get into a fight. She needed spells that would help in her everyday life, too. There were even more spells to choose from out of those and she couldn’t figure out the best balance.

“What do you think I should get?” Glasir asked, “What should I even do? There’s so much to pick from that I can’t tell what’s best.”

The Warden seemed taken aback at her question.

“This feels strange because I’m not certain whether I should be treating you as a three-month-old or an apprentice,” she said. “Or maybe I shouldn’t be considering you in those terms at all because you’re a nature spirit. Most of the time, what people decide to do is a compromise between what they want to do and what people want from them. Even so, it is still a decision to make for yourself – deciding on what you want to do based on what others tell you to do rarely leads to a life filled with motivation.”

“But you tell people what to do all the time,” Glasir noted. “Almost everything you do is for the sake of others, as well.”

“That’s not exactly the same,” the Warden replied. “Not directly, at any rate. The people that I order around are people who have chosen to work in certain vocations and have willingly signed contracts with me. I contract a Farmer because they are those who have chosen Farming as their vocation. I do not tell Blacksmiths to manage crops. Those who work for the businesses and institutions that I charter are slightly different in the sense that I can direct research and production, but they are still there because they wanted to work there.

“As for myself, I choose to serve, and I chose to serve because it is a central aspect of what I am. I probably still don’t know all of what I am, but everything that I do comes naturally to me.”

Glasir nodded slowly at the Warden’s words. What she said seemed to make sense.

“In that case,” Glasir said, “I should be what I am. A Dryad. I want to learn how to take care of my tree and its surroundings. That means learning how to fight, too.”

“Does that mean she takes after her mother?” Baroness Gagnier mused, “Or does she take after her father?”

“Does it have to be one or the other?” The Warden frowned.

“Oh, does that mean you recognise who the father is?”

The Warden’s mouth snapped shut. She gave Baroness Gagnier a look, but the Human Lord only smiled back.

“Anyhow,” the Warden turned her attention back to Glasir, “if you mean to fight, you need a sense of your own capabilities. Let’s figure out your level, first.”

“But I thought we already did that.”

“We figured out your Druid level, but not your total level. You are a Heteromorph, so you will have Racial Class Levels in addition to your Job Class Levels. Nonna, can you summon a Level Six creature? Make it a variety.”

“?Summon Monster III?.”

Four summons appeared: a Dire Badger, an Imp, a Giant Ant and a Skeletal Owlbear. The Warden’s gaze went back and forth between them and Glasir.

“Hmm…”

“What are you doing?” Countess Wagner asked.

“Comparing their strength,” the Warden replied. “Job Classes with scout-type aspects can sense how strong something is so long as it isn’t overwhelmingly so. It’s beyond the feeling that people get when they’re in the presence of a strong being. Others can make inferences based on other cues.”

“So in the plays,” Baroness Gagnier said, “when the actors cross blades once or twice and then pull back and say ‘hoh, you’re a worthy adversary!’, that’s not just for dramatic effect?”

The Baroness’ voice dropped in pitch when she said that and the Warden smiled a bit.

“That’s not quite how it goes, but it might be a sort of artistic paraphrasing. The confidence in an opponent’s actions, their footwork, weapon technique, Martial Arts and various other things all combine into a sense of how strong one is. People who are purposely trying to display their strength can also exert a sort of pressure on those around them.”

“But you’re just looking at them,” Countess Wagner said.

“A scout’s senses are different from what I described of a warrior. Ours is more like an extra sense that tells us how dangerous something is.”

“Then why do you need to look for so long?”

“Because it’s relative,” the Warden replied. “I don’t look at someone and immediately know that they’re Level Six. What I sense is how dangerous they are relative to me. Furthermore, not all Level 6 beings are equal in strength. A Level 6 Human Farmer is nowhere near as dangerous as a Level 6 Goblin warrior. A Level 6 Goblin warrior is not as dangerous as a Level 6 Human warrior. A Level 6 Dragon is much more dangerous than a Level 6 Human warrior.”

“…then what’s the point in using Levels?”

“Because Levels are precise in themselves and don’t require a relative assessment with all the guesswork that brings. A Level 6 Skeleton might only be half as strong as a Level 6 Human Warrior, but you can develop a measure for what each Level in ‘Skeleton’ adds to the Skeleton’s overall strength – its physical parameters, traits, potential Abilities and Skills, additional behaviours and so on.”

“But you can’t sense that,” Countess Wagner said. “You said that what you feel is a relative sense of danger. In that case, what use is it when trying to determine levels?”

“The sense is just that – a sense. I don’t think about it any more than a long thought process is required for you to see the colour green. It happens instantly. The thinking part is taking that raw sense of danger and distilling it into Racial and Job Class Levels. If you see a streak of green on a painting, you can think about why it’s green. Maybe someone mixed blue and yellow. Maybe someone used natural green pigment. You can think about everything that went into the process of making those ingredients.

“Using my sense for strength and danger follows a similar process. Sometimes, it’s simple. If I see a bear in the woods I’ll immediately know how dangerous it is and a long list of expectations drawn from experience and knowledge comes to mind. If I try to gauge a Human, I can come up with what Job Class Level combinations they could have to give off that sense of danger. That Human will give off all sorts of hints as to what they are. For instance, if they are wearing Plate Armour, it narrows it down to certain Warriors and Clerics and then I can make guesses at their Job Class Levels from there. If they look like a Wizard, I can figure out what tier of magic they can cast and their potential recourses in combat.”

“But they can trick you.”

“Of course,” the Warden nodded. “One can purposely misdirect observers and some Job Classes have Skills and Abilities that can conceal things entirely. That’s not happening here, though.”

Following another minute of looking between Glasir and the summons, the Warden nodded to herself.

“I can’t be certain without another Dryad to compare to,” she said, “but I think you have two Racial Class Levels in ‘Dryad’…or whatever you want to call it.”

“What leads you to this conclusion?” Nonna asked.

“First of all,” the Warden answered, “Glasir is clearly more dangerous than any of the summons except for this Imp. Even compared to this Imp, she’s stronger. Secondly, she grew those vines.”

Glasir’s vines twitched at being mentioned. Were they really that special?

“Job Class Levels are ‘sneaky’ in the sense that one usually has to develop Skills, Abilities and the other new additions that might come with them after the fact. Very few things come inherently and most of those are so gradual that the individual doesn’t notice the difference. When one is resurrected and loses several levels all at once, it then becomes very noticeable because they experience a distinct drop in their former capabilities.

“Advances in Racial Class Levels, however, are easier to detect. Some things still need to be developed even if they are innate, but other things one simply ‘grows’ into. This is usually in the literal sense: you can tell how old a Dragon is by how long they are for a member of their particular species. If you can figure out what body lengths a Dragon gets their levels at, you can tell how many Racial Class Levels a Dragon has. There are other indicators, such as stronger natural weapons, more resilient scales and increased capacity for magic that develop at specific level thresholds.”

“So you think Glasir growing vines is an indication that she gained a Racial Class Level,” Countess Corelyn said.

“That’s right,” the Warden nodded. “Glasir is a manifestation of natural ‘plant’ energy, much like natural Undead are a manifestation of negative energy and Elementals are manifestations of their respective elemental energies. If she was supposed to have vines in the first place, she would have appeared with them from the start. Additionally, while she is a nature spirit, she is also a plant-type Heteromorph. Plants grow so it’s not unreasonable for Glasir to ‘grow’ in some way beyond her tree growing.”

If that was the case, then what would she grow next? She doubted that she would flower any time soon. Maybe her vines would get stronger or her skin would become tougher.

What she really wanted, however, was for her tree to grow bigger. She meticulously measured it every day and it had only grown by one centimetre over the winter. It would take centuries for it to grow large enough to sleep inside at this rate.

“Go ahead and attack the Dire Badger with the ability of your vines,” the Warden said.

Eh? Oh yeah, we were doing that…

Glasir reached out with a vine and touched the Dire Badger. The beast growled and she jumped away.

“A bit over one-quarter…” the Warden said, “is that right, Nonna?”

“Closer to one-third,” the Elder Lich replied. “No additional debilitating effects have been observed.”

“About the same as a regular strike with a Greatsword or Greataxe from a Copper-rank Adventurer – no, the physical damage from the vines should be added…Glasir, how do you usually attack things?”

“I don’t usually attack anything,” Glasir replied.

“How would a Dryad naturally confront a threat?”

Her vines withdrew to fuse with her arms as she thought about the Warden’s question.

“I would try hiding first,” Glasir said, “but my tree is too small so I would use Tree Shape to pose as another tree…but there aren’t any other trees here so that would look suspicious, too…”

She never liked how barren the island was. Maybe it had something to do with what she just said.

“After that, I would try to tell them to go away with Suggestion. If that didn’t work, I would try to charm them. If I felt that it would take multiple tries, I would cast Deep Slumber to put them to sleep and then try to cast charm spells.”

“What if they were immune to mental compulsion effects like those?”

“I would cast Twine Plant and try to ask for help from nearby.”

“Even though she could kill a person with a single touch,” Baroness Gagnier said, “everything she’s thinking of doesn’t do any damage at all. Dryads really are peaceful beings.”

Glasir wasn’t sure what they expected. Dryads were stuck to their trees. If they acted violently all the time, people would just attack them from far away or come back with more people if she made them mad.

“Well, say that none of that worked,” the Warden said. “How would you deal with them?”

“I saved up some gold,” Glasir replied. “People like gold. Can I pay them to go away?”

“…say that they’re about to attack you, what would you do?”

“I’d cast Twine Plant, then grab them with my vines until they became fertiliser.”

“So much for peaceful,” Countess Wagner muttered.

“She had no other choice!” Baroness Gagnier whacked her in the arm.

“Can you grip a person hard enough to physically hurt them?” The Warden asked, “Or cause damage like a whip?”

She hadn’t considered that. Vines weren’t snakes or whips – whatever a whip was.

Glasir extended one of her vines and hit the Dire Badger with it. The attack bounced off.

“No damage,” Nonna said.

“Try whipping it,” the Warden suggested.

“I don’t know what a whip is,” Glasir replied.

“Oh, erm…”

The Warden took some rope out of one of her bags. She uncoiled it and held it between her hands.

“When you whip something,” she said, “you’re manipulating it in such a way that the end moves fast and hits your target. Like this.”

“Ow!”

Glasir winced as a stinging sensation blossomed over her thigh. It was a rope, but it had somehow opened a gash on her leg. Golden sap oozed from the wound.

“Why did you do that?” Baroness Gagnier was shocked.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” the Warden said. “She might look like an Elf or a Human woman, but she’s a lot stronger than one.”

The Warden looked back to Glasir.

“Can you try doing that?” She asked.

Trying to ignore the pain on her leg, Glasir used a vine in the same way that the Warden used her rope. The Dire Badger grunted and a bloody welt rose under its fur.

“Roughly ten per cent,” Nonna reported.

“That’s still enough to lower the number of strikes from four to three,” the Warden nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe the vines will do more damage as she gets older. Or maybe she can practise and get calluses on the ends? Try whipping the Dire Badger again with your vine’s ability active.”

Glasir nodded before doing as instructed. The Dire Badger collapsed and scattered into motes of mana. At the same time, the wound on her thigh closed and the pain vanished.

“I thought so,” the Warden muttered. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Glasir, but I wanted to see what the ‘parasitic’ part of your parasitic vines was. Since they didn’t appear to cause anything other than damage, I suspected it might be some sort of life drain.”

“…is Lady Shalltear somehow involved in this familial relationship?” Countess Wagner frowned.

“Vampires aren’t the only ones with life-draining attacks,” the Warden reached out and patted Glasir’s leafy head. “Monsters, Magical Beasts and Heteromorphs with parasitic properties tend to have Skills and Abilities that reflect that nature. This applies to many plant species that are carnivorous or entrap their prey to slowly feed on them in some manner. That’s what Glasir said, yes? ‘I’ll grab them with my vines until they become fertiliser’. It was a natural answer for her.”

The next target was the Giant Ant. It was destroyed in two hits.

“Wait,” Countess Wagner said, “why was that one so much weaker?”

“It goes back to the idea of Class Levels and how they contribute to how dangerous something is,” the Warden said. “Broadly speaking, Beast-type creatures are strong, tough and have abilities that make those traits problematic. A Dire Badger is aggressive and enrages when hurt. Combatants have to deal with the effects of that enraged state until they can put the animal down, which takes longer than usual because it is so tough.”

Her attention turned to where the two-metre-long Giant Ant once stood.

“A Giant Ant’s strength lies in its social nature and the tools that it has to leverage that nature. They will grapple their target with their mandibles, which makes it easier for other Giant Ants to grab that target as well. While holding their opponent, they will repeatedly sting it until they or their target succumbs.”

They moved on to the Imp, which was destroyed in two hits. Baroness Gagnier shifted in her seat.

“You said that the Imp was stronger than the rest,” she said. “What makes it better than the Dire Badger?”

“There are exceptions such as low-level Skeletons and Zombies,” the Warden replied, “but Heteromorphic beings tend to be entirely unfair when it comes to their racial advantages. Imps are at least as intelligent as a Human, highly agile, dexterous and stealthy, have natural flight, Darkvision, fire resistance, immunity to poison and a poison sting. They have damage reduction that is only bypassed by silver or good-aligned weapons, but it doesn’t appear to protect against Glasir’s parasitic ability. That means that it’s some sort of energy attack.

“Their damage reduction similarly means that their natural weapons count as evil-aligned. They also have a few Spell-like Abilities – they use Invisibility to get around unnoticed all the time. Additionally, they have the Ability to assume alternate forms but I haven’t seen any do that yet.”

“Makes you wonder what stronger Fiends have,” Countess Wagner said. “I assume you’ve saved the best for last?”

“It’s not so much that as the fact that Undead beings are usually immune to all sorts of drains,” the Warden said. “It’s probably the same here. Go ahead, Glasir.”

Glasir stepped towards the Skeletal Owlbear. She hit it as hard as she could, but the only result was a chip in the bone that she had struck.

“Less than ten per cent,” Nonna noted.

“That’s more than I expected,” the Warden said. “Whips usually leave cuts so I thought it would be a slashing attack, but I suppose it’s a bludgeoning attack? Your parasitic touch attack didn’t work, but that isn’t a surprise.”

Undead were unfair. Why was she so weak against them?

“This test subject is anomalous,” Nonna said. “Data from several Dryads from the Great Forest of Tob indicate that this one is stronger than a regular Dryad.”

“Lord Mare did say that she might be special because of the tree she was born from,” the Warden told the Elder Lich. “Please send him a copy of our findings…and I’d like to speak to Lady Aura about Glasir, as well.”

“Lady Aura?” Glasir said, “Why?”

“Because I am a Ranger trained in polearms,” the Warden said. “Lady Aura, however, is a Ranger trained in whips. She would probably be the best personal combat instructor for you.”

With the night well underway, the Warden and the other Human Lords agreed to split up to see to their respective tasks. It seemed that even adults had homework. Countess Wagner and Baroness Gagnier both fell over because they forgot about the Ghost Tongue. Countess Corelyn went upstairs but the Warden stayed with Glasir, examining the plants of the magical solarium.

“So,” she said. “Have you thought about what you wanted now that you’ve learned a bit more about yourself?”

“I still want to be good at defending my tree,” Glasir replied. “The way you talked about it…am I actually really strong?”

“Much stronger than a Level Five Human, at least,” the Warden nodded. “That Dire Badger that you killed in three hits is used as a ‘boss’ for Copper-rank promotional exams. Since you dispatched it so easily without using anything else, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re as strong as a Gold-rank Adventurer. From what I understand, Heteromorphs get a ‘head start’ because of their powerful Racial Class Levels and it takes a lot of Job Class Levels for Humans to reach parity if they ever do.”

“Lord Mare said it was a good idea to be a Druid…is that still right?”

“You might have fallen prey to a common misconception about Druids and Clerics,” the Warden replied. “Humans – even Demihumans – tend to view them as ‘support’. A lot of novice Adventurers make the same mistake. Even though most of the magic casters that they ever meet are divine casters, people think ‘Wizard’ when the idea of a magic caster comes to mind. A Druid becomes a ‘tree wizard’ in their heads and they assume that they have poor physical capabilities. That they can heal and cast support spells only makes it worse and inexperienced Adventurer teams try to relegate them to the back line.

“Nothing could be further from the truth, however. Divine casters can be powerful physical combatants. Vicar Aspasia might fall back to cast spells if required, but she is on the front line of battle most of the time. Lady Shalltear is a Cleric and she has specific Job Classes that improve her capabilities in close combat. She is by far the most powerful of His Majesty’s vassals: even Weapon Masters like Lord Cocytus are no match.”

Glasir’s leaves rustled as the Warden put a hand on her shoulder. Her touch felt sort of nice.

“I believe that you can do the same as a Druid,” the Warden told her, “but you will have to find the way that best works for you. I know that, as a Dryad, your nature is more solitary than most, but you should know that you’re not alone. If you need help or advice, all you have to do is ask.”