“I want to do more,” Elijah admitted to Atticus.

  It had been three days since he’d departed Seattle, but the aftermath of the war elf attack still stuck with him. In an effort to deal with those feelings, he’d gone to Argos, where he’d spent most of his time in the Temple of Virtue. He’d lost count of the number of people he’d healed, but even then, he knew that his actions were almost entirely unnecessary.

  Due to the presence of the Temple – and the aura it emitted – the people of Argos were healthier than just about anywhere on Earth. Those living in Ironshore or in the Hartwood Grove had it better, but at that point, the distinction didn’t mean much. Not to regular people, at least. Healthy was healthy, so it didn’t really matter that the vitality in and around the grove was far denser.

  On top of that, the Hartwood Foundation workers were more than capable of meeting the city’s demands. Elijah’s visit was more of an intrusion on the status quo than a help, though no one had the temerity to point that out.

  He chose to simply ignore that reality and focus on healing, knowing full well that it was more for his benefit than for those he helped.

  After taking a drink, Atticus set his goblet aside and asked, “How much more? The resources you’ve already dedicated to the Hartwood Foundation would beggar most cities.”

  Elijah sighed, then leaned back in his seat. All around them, men and women enjoyed one another’s company. The tavern was packed, mostly with happy people who just wanted a little break from their normal lives. The fact that such a thing was possible after Earth had changed so much was a testament to Argos’ prosperity. Even the ready availability of alcohol was something most places did not enjoy.

  It reminded him of a project he wanted to dedicate some time to, though he knew good and well that he didn’t have that luxury. Even taking a few days to heal people in the Temple of Virtue was pushing it.

  After all, Sadie and the others were still overdue.

  Though judging by the reported ethereal fluctuations in the Hollow Depths, there was a good chance that would soon change. The density hadn’t decreased by much, but the fact that it had fallen at all was a good sign.

  It was also the only reason he hadn’t started toward the entrance to the Red Marsh. One of them, at least. His intention to enter was also complicated by the fact that it would take him at least a few weeks to reach that destination.

  So, he’d chosen to wait, even if doing so left him far more anxious than if he’d committed to a course of action.

  In the interim, he’d also sent a message to Benedict, letting him know that it wouldn’t be much longer before they attacked the Labyrinth of the Dead Gods together. It was long overdue, but thankfully, Benedict had held his own against the ever-increasing presence of the asharii.

  But it was fast approaching the point where his demons simply couldn’t keep up. And while his people helped, very few of them could go up against one of the asharii and win. Not even if they banded together and attacked en masse.

  No – it wasn’t exactly the same situation as the one plaguing the Hollow Depths, but it was close enough that Elijah recognized how troublesome it would be to deal with the Primal Realm. Though he had difficulty believing it would be worse than the Broken Crown, especially now that he had made so many strides forward in his progression. In fact, it was hard to imagine anything on Earth standing up to him in a contest of might.

  Which meant that the Labyrinth of the Dead Gods would almost assuredly take a different approach.

  In any case, outside of the threat of excisement that came with an unconquered Primal Realm, it wasn’t quite as desperate of a situation as Elijah had feared. Urgent, but not desperate. It could wait a little while longer until he’d had a chance to confirm the fates of his friends and family in the Red Marsh.

  “We could spend more money,” Atticus suggested. “I’m already matching your contribution, but I don’t think I can afford anything more. So, it would all be from you, my friend.”

  “You’re matching me?”

  “Of course.”

  The Merchant said it so matter-of-factly that there wasn’t much room for further explanation. In fact, Elijah felt a little ashamed that he was so surprised. For all that Atticus was ruthless in his business dealings, he’d never shown himself to be greedy. Or rather, his greed had always benefited others at least as much as it did his own circumstances.

  Could an obscenely rich man be a good person? Atticus seemed to take that question as a challenge.

  “What do you know about mead?” asked Elijah, changing the subject to his next project.

  “Do you want to become a brewer, then?”

  Elijah shrugged. “I don’t know. I have a lot of honey, though. More than I could ever use. Right now, we’re just storing it in the grove, but I’d like to see about using it.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Indeed, there were more than a hundred casks of honey harvested from the apiary in the Hartwood Grove. The bees, who’d all progressed alongside everything else on the island, produced honey at a prodigious rate. Originally, Elijah had only wanted something to sweeten his coffee, but now, he saw another avenue of income for the grove.

  After all, it needed more than just his soap to keep everything moving forward. The grove could produce most of what it needed, but there were amenities they needed to import. And as the population increased, those needs would only grow. He wanted the best for his people, and that would inevitably cost quite a bit of money.

  “Alcohol is a bit of a luxury these days,” Atticus acknowledged. “There are a few high-level Brewers out there, but they can only make so much. And I don’t think anyone is selling mead at scale.”

  “You think it could work?” Elijah asked.

  Atticus leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. It really depends on quality. If it’s just alcohol, it will sell, but not to the degree that would change much for you. However, if it is like your soap…”

  Elijah nodded. “That’s kind of what I was thinking,” he said. “Could you find some information on it? I don’t know how to make mead.”

  “Consider it done, my friend.”

  After that, the pair continued to drink, though Elijah’s heart wasn’t really in any of it. It wasn’t long before he excused himself and headed to the inn where he usually stayed. Agatha was off for the night, so Elijah went to his room without hesitation. However, when he lay down, he couldn’t sleep. So, he turned his attention inward and focused on his cultivation.

  Not for the first time, he recognized that the tree that represented his cultivation system had continued to grow. The branches of his soul had become more numerous, while the trunk of his body had thickened. His roots were far more expansive as well, and while the number of leaves that represented his mind had remained stagnant, they had become more detailed and vibrant. The apertures attached to them swirled with unprecedented ferocity as well.

  In short, he had yet to fully settle into the Lord stage of cultivation. In the weeks since he’d returned from the Broken Crown, Elijah had done a little research into the topic. It had cost him a fortune, but his efforts had been to no avail. None of the guides he’d bought mentioned anything like what he’d experienced.

  As he lay there, he wished that he had more guidance. A couple of hours with Kirlissa would have been so beneficial. She could answer all of his questions and help him prepare for what was next. But every time she had appeared, he’d had other things on his mind.

  Hopefully, he would remember to ask his questions the next time he saw her.

  Though he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d reach the Empire of Scale before that came to pass. After all, the journey to the next stages of cultivation were supposed to take decades. And by that point, the threat of excisement would have long since been resolved. As soon as that danger passed, Elijah intended to leave Earth and receive a proper education, whatever that entailed.

  In the meantime, he could only play it by ear. Without any other viable strategies at his fingertips, he fell back on his old cultivation exercises meant to prepare him to take the next steps. In doing so, he discovered that he could accelerate the pace of growth. Not by a lot, but still to a noticeable degree.

  Like that, he occupied himself for the rest of the night. When the sun rose, he hadn’t made much progress, but enough that he vowed to continue those exercises as often as events allowed.

  After showering and dressing, he headed to Atticus’ place, where he found his friend nursing a hangover. He also complained about his wife’s reaction to coming home extremely drunk, though considering the Merchant smiled throughout, Elijah knew better than to take those complaints seriously.

  It didn’t take Atticus long to find some instructions detailing mead creation. Armed with that knowledge – and still having a few days to kill before his self-imposed deadline to check on matters in the Hollow Depths – he retreated to the grove and started studying.

  As it turned out, fermenting mead was not a complicated process. At its simplest, it only required water, honey, and time. In that case, the yeast would be allowed to grow naturally. However, Elijah wanted something a little more controlled than that, so he decided to make his own yeast starter.

  Fortunately, Elijah had plenty of grove fruits for that. And he had some eager workers in the form of the children, who had a blast crushing the valuable fruits inside various buckets.

  After adding water and a bit of honey, the last missing ingredient was time. As the days passed, Elijah tended to his yeast. However, it was on the fourth day that a messenger came to the dock, interrupting his process before he ever actually got to making mead.

  The illythiri woman was entirely unfamiliar, and what’s more she was obviously terrified to take a single step off the dock. That only grew worse when Elijah stepped out from the tree line.

  “Why are you here?” he asked, not bothering with niceties.

  “I come bearing a message for the Druid named Elijah Hart.”

  “That’s me.”

  Judging by her demeanor, that confirmation wasn’t strictly necessary. Rather, it was more of a formality.

  “I am here to inform you that the Primal Realm has been conquered,” she revealed. “Ethereal density has dropped considerably, and the trolls have been pushed back.”

  Elijah had suspected as much when he’d visited the Circle of Webs a week before, but hearing confirmation was more than a relief. “Do we have word of the army that entered the Red Marsh?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “We estimate the conquerors’ return within a month,” the messenger answered. “Perhaps more if they are injured. We sent another force out with the hopes of assisting them.”

  Elijah frowned. He wanted nothing more than to go down there himself and meet Sadie and the others. Now that they were out of the Primal Realm, he could feel that the members of the grove were still alive, but he knew nothing of the rest of the army’s fate. For all he knew, only Miguel, the pack, and Kurik had survived.

  But he knew it would do little good, other than to satisfy his own curiosity. And it could cause issues with Sadie, who’d made it clear that she neither needed nor wanted his help. He had to respect that, even if he wanted to swoop in like a knight in shining armor. He needed to trust that she was capable of taking care of herself – an issue he’d struggled with for a while.

  In any case, the messenger didn’t stick around much longer. And for his part, Elijah resisted the urge to jet off and rescue people who, in all likelihood, didn’t need rescuing. Instead, he retreated to the center of the grove and continued his quest to make mead. But as he did so, many of the leaves representing his mind remained on his friends and family.

  Most of all, he thought of Sadie.

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