Dense ethera washed over Elijah as he appeared next to the ancestral tree, but the first thing he truly noticed was the change in temperature. It wasn’t exactly warm on the island, but the climate was noticeably more comfortable than it was around Svetogorsk – a fact which he very much appreciated.

“What is it?” he asked when Nerthus stepped out of the tree.

“There is a situation in Ironshore,” the spryggent answered in his deep, gravelly voice.

Elijah raised his eyebrow. “What kind of situation?”

“The kind that requires your immediate attention,” Nerthus replied. Then, he said something Elijah very much did not expect. “Another Druid wishes to speak with you.”

“What?” he breathed. He’d begun to wonder if there were any other people on Earth who’d chosen his Archetype. Certainly, he understood the difficulties that plagued Druids in the early levels. Versatility was the hallmark of the archetype, but it was also a bit of a curse. They could heal, but not as well as a Healer. They could cast damaging spells, but not nearly as well as a Sorcerer. They could craft, but only in a limited way. Part fighter. Part non-combatant. A jack-of-all-trades, but masters of none.

And in such a dangerous world, that usually meant that they were at a disadvantage.

The only reason Elijah had survived was due to his good fortune at washing ashore on an island that played host to a powerful natural treasure, a guardian that didn’t immediately attack him, and, of course, Nerthus. Without any of those factors, he would have died before he’d ever gotten a class, much less achieved any sort of power.

Most people wouldn’t have those advantages, and given that he’d not even heard of any other Druids, Elijah had basically given up hope of meeting any until he ventured off-world.

“Where did he come from? What level is he? And –”

“She. And I don’t know the answers to those questions. The only reason I know anything at all is because Mayor Ramik visited Druid’s Park and asked me to contact you,” Nerthus replied. “I have been trying to get your attention for the last two days.”

“Oh. I was…uh…busy. On the plus side, the trees have taken root. They should be okay for now.”

“I see.”

It was clear that Nerthus didn’t really accept Elijah’s excuse, and it wasn’t difficult to see why. With his locus, Elijah could sense everything on or surrounding the island. The problem was that he’d shunted that information into its own facet of his mind, which he often ignored in favor of focusing on more immediate concerns. Technically, he could think about everything at once – which was the advantage of his multi-faceted mind – but doing so was incredibly inefficient. So, he’d been forced to learn how to focus his efforts.

“I’ll do better,” he said. “I’ve been working on the next step in mind cultivation.”

“That should be advantageous. For now, you need to concentrate on making a good first impression.”

“Should I wear the suit?” Elijah asked, looking down at his battered armor. It reminded him that he needed to check up on Griff to see how he’d fared in converting the wasp chitin into a new set. He just hadn’t had time of late.

“No.”

“Armor?”

“Also no.”

Elijah sighed, then said that he would change into something casual. The problem was that most of his wardrobe that fell under that umbrella had been destroyed during his various adventures.

“Is that what you call them?” asked Nerthus when he complained about his lack of options. “Adventures?”

Elijah shrugged, saying, “Seems the best way to describe them. Why? What would you call them?”

“Thrill-seeking displays of masochism.”

“What? Seriously? Where did you learn that?”

“Smith Carmen.”

Frowning, Elijah just shook his head. He didn’t even have the words to dispute such a ridiculous claim. So, he left Nerthus behind and headed to the tree house, where he took a quick shower and dressed. Once he was presentable – his shirt only had a few rips in it, and his pants were only slightly frayed at the hem – he took on the Shape of the Sky, then set off toward the city.

He landed just outside the gates, noting that, once again, Ironshore had grown. How they’d managed to move the wall, he had no idea, but it was at least a hundred yards further out than it had been only a few months before. Magic, he assumed, was responsible for the change.

The guards on duty recognized him immediately, and they allowed him in without a fuss. Soon enough, he was immersed in the traffic of the city. Ironshore might’ve grown, but the extra space still seemed insufficient to keep up with the boom in population. The streets were packed with people of every race imaginable, and every building seemed like it was overflowing.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

But everyone seemed well-fed and happy, at least. So, it had that going for it, even if it was a bit overpopulated.

The good thing about the increased traffic was that, for the most part, Elijah didn’t get much attention. For once, he was just another face in the crowd. It was kind of nice, though he also had to admit that he found it a bit frustrating. In short, he was a little conflicted about the subject of fame, such as it was. On the one hand, he knew he was different than most other people. That was just a fact. And acting like he wasn’t rankled on his pride. However, he definitely didn’t want the attention that came with revealing his true identity.

Or maybe it was just the fear that made him uncomfortable.

Either way, he had to resist the urge to duck into an alley, shift into the Shape of the Scourge, and use Guise of the Unseen. At least that way, he’d be in control.

But he chose not to, instead following the flow of traffic all the way to the government building. Thankfully, with the organized layout of the city, he never even had to turn off the main road before he reached the plaza surrounding the building.

Upon entering, he was unsurprised to see that it looked at least as impressive as anywhere else he’d been. After all, Ironshore had access to some of the best crafters in the world, so the evolution of that interior was expected. Even so, Elijah found himself appreciating the slight variation of neo-classical style, with ornamental columns, plenty of marble and other decorative stone, and a grand staircase leading to the second floor.

Elijah mounted it, knowing precisely where he was going. Still, he was forced to identify himself to Ramik’s new Administrator who was, surprisingly, a severe-looking human woman. Once she discovered his identity, she ushered him inside the goblin mayor’s office.

“Oh, thank goodness you arrived!” an exasperated Ramik exclaimed, practically leaping to his feet. He’d gained a few levels since the last time Elijah had seen him. “Did Nerthus inform you of the situation? Oh. I apologize. Would you like some tea? Have a seat.”

Elijah shook his head, “No thanks. Never been a fan of dirty leaf water.”

“Huh?”

“Just a joke. It occurs to me that you don’t have the context to appreciate it. But like I said, no thanks on the tea,” Elijah said, settling into one of the offered chairs. He leaned forward. “So, what’s the deal? You told Nerthus there’s another Druid here, right?”

“Indeed,” Ramik answered, pacing back and forth.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Perhaps. It’s…difficult to know for sure. I am no expert on grove politics, but from everything I’ve learned, rival Druids often find themselves at odds. Most worlds play host to only a single grove. Certainly, there are subordinate groves scattered across any planet, but…”

“But you think this Druid is here to try to subjugate my grove.”

Ramik sighed. “I have no idea why they are here.”

“They?”

“The Druid in question led nearly fifty people here. All sea elves. In any other situation, we likely would not have allowed them inside. They are low-level and their race has a reputation for being somewhat xenophobic. Not hostile, mind you. They just tend to keep to themselves. Most aquatic and semi-aquatic races are like that,” Ramik explained. “If you ever have the displeasure of meeting an aquagoblin, you’d be best suited going the other way. They have little to offer, save for ignorant hostility.”

“And sea elves are like that?”

Ramik shook his head, saying that he had no way of knowing for certain, but he made sure to remind Elijah that stereotypes tended to exist for a reason.

“So, you’re saying that I should be on guard here?”

“No. I’m asking you not to immediately kill them if they offend you.”

“What? I wouldn’t…”

Elijah trailed off as he remembered that it hadn’t been that long ago that he’d stormed into town, demanded that Ramik gather the people who’d visited his island, then beheaded three of them. And that was before he’d dragged a thousand corpses through the local Spires.

So, maybe his request wasn’t that unreasonable.

“I won’t kill anybody.”

“That’s not what I said. By all means, if they overstep, kill them,” Ramik said. “With all due respect, that’s the point of all that power. I’m only asking that you think of the consequences before you act. I understand how protective of your grove you are. And with good reason. I’m only asking for a little caution.”

Elijah wanted to argue, to explain that he didn’t just kill people because they wounded his pride, but he realized that doing so would just come off like he was being defensive. So, with a nod, he responded, “I’ll do my best not to murder anyone.”

Ramik started to say something – probably trying to mitigate Elijah’s displeasure – but Elijah cut him off, saying, “It’s fine. I want you to be honest with me. If I’m making a mistake, I expect you to say so.”

“I…I can do that.”

In truth, Elijah wasn’t so certain that was the case. He didn’t know much about the rest of the multi-verse, but from everything he’d seen, weaker people generally lived at the pleasure of those with true power. Offending one – even accidently – was a good way to get killed.

Of course, there were forces out there who acted to keep people like that in line, but they couldn’t be everywhere. And even if they could enact consequences each time some powerful person stepped out of line, their reaction would be retroactive – meaning that the victim would still be dead.

A chilling thought for when he went to the Empire of Scale.

For now, though, he needed to focus on the upcoming meeting. So, he listened as Ramik described the Druid and her followers, characterizing them as refugees. He hadn’t gotten the full story out of them – that was reserved for Elijah – but Ramik made no secret of believing that they’d fallen afoul of bandits.

With that in mind, Ramik escorted him from the government building and out of the city. According to Ramik, it was clear that the sea elves could not afford accommodations from one of the inns, though the leader had claimed that they were simply more comfortable camping outside the city walls.

The trip didn’t take long – just half an hour or so – but in that time, Ramik explained everything that had been going on in the city. Mostly because the mayor was proud of Ironshore’s progress, but also as a courtesy. Their fates were intertwined, after all. Elijah had a right to know those sorts of things, even if he rarely made a big deal out of it.

When they finally reached the camp in question, Elijah was appalled at the state of things. Everyone was dirty, and many of the people he saw were underfed, if not out-and-out malnourished. Instinctively, he cast Blessing of the Grove, and the familiar sunflower bloomed in their midst. In addition, dense sheets of rain descended from hastily summoned clouds, filling the air with vitality and healing.

That’s when Elijah saw her.

He didn’t need an introduction to know she was a Druid, either. The second they locked eyes, he knew what she was. There was a kinship there, though it was both less and more meaningful than that word implied. There was nothing personal about it, but that didn’t matter. The connection between them was a thing of nature, undeniable as well as irresistible.

“I’m Elijah Hart. I think you’ve been waiting on me,” he said, stepping toward the camp.