Chương 31: Chapter 28 — Posted Jobs

⟨ [NOTIFICATION] ⟩ Current XP: 1, 100 / 10, 000 HUNGER: 8 / 10 ████████ ░░ 8/10"He doesn't sleep," said Fenwick.

"But if he rests, the bar moves slower." Yes. Sindy's words on the screen, clean and careful. If he stays still and calm, the hunger stabilizes. It doesn't refill — nothing refills it except eating — but it stops dropping as fast. Fenwick looked at the bar. Then, at Max, who was standing in the middle of the outbuilding looking at the wall with a waning attention to something that had run out of things to do and hadn't decided what came next.

"And the reading helps." The reading helps. He follows the words now, even without looking at the screen. Something in the rebuilt architecture tracks the language while the rest of him rests. He picks up vocabulary overnight that he doesn't have conscious access to until he needs it the next day.

"Like building a house," said Fenwick. Exactly like building a house. Stone on stone. Word on word. Fenwick looked at Max.

"Max," he said. The head turned. Those dark eyes, present and attentive in a way the empty sockets had never been.

"Sit," said Fenwick.

"Back to the wall. Face the door." Max looked at him for a moment. Then he crossed the old aphid barn, settled himself against the far wall cross-legged, and faced the door. Fenwick verified that Max would not be watching him while he slept. He trusted Max and Sindy, after everything, of course, he did, but a silent, undead thing staring at him all night was more than the small guinea pig was prepared to manage. He had a letter to write.

His mother had sent hers three weeks ago, routed through the Order's postal system, the envelope slightly battered from the journey and smelling faintly of the farm. He had read it four times already. He read it again now, by the glow of the screen. My dearest Fenny, I am so proud of you. Your sister has been seeing the boy down the road. I think this might be the one — they seem so happy together. It will be one less hand on the farm, but she needs to get me grandbabies.

As for your brothers, if I could get them bathed and presentable, I might find wives for them, too. Speaking of which — how is the dating life of a mighty adventurer? I still can't believe my little Fenny is out there adventuring. Write when you can. All my love, Mum Fenwick folded the letter carefully. He looked at Max, sitting against the far wall of the old aphid barn, facing the door exactly as instructed. He picked up his pen. Dear Mum, Things are going well. I have been very busy.

My companion is making excellent progress. He looked at Max. The dating life of an adventurer is not something I have had time to explore. He considered how to explain the rest. He put the pen down. He picked it up again. Tell the boys to bathe. Your loving son, Fenwick He folded the letter, addressed it, and set it aside for the morning post. Fenwick settled onto his cot, the one with the ridge he had been losing negotiations with for sixty nights. He looked at the ceiling.

The screen glowed softly at the edge of his vision — Sindy had positioned it where Max could see it without turning, the words appearing as she read, clean letters in the language they now shared. Backwards from Fenwick's angle. He could make out shapes but not meaning. Sindy began to read. Traps, Tricks, and Beasts. Chapter One.

GraceBMorgan_'s story of Squirt — a pixie with little magic in a world that valued almost nothing else, who hunted feybeasts that overwhelmed settlements and hurt people, who was considered useless by most until a leader noticed what she could actually do, and the little pixie found her people not through power but through being relentlessly, precisely good at the thing only she knew how to do. Fenwick watched the words appear for a while. Then he stopped watching.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The ridge found him almost immediately. He shifted. It found him again. He had been losing this negotiation for sixty nights and saw no reason tonight would be different. The screen kept glowing. Max faced the wall. Fenwick closed his eyes. Morning. [NOTIFICATION] HUNGER ███████ ░░░ 7 / 10 One point. Better than it had been. Better than it would have been without the rest. Fenwick noted it without comment, renewed Flower Scent out of habit.

Max no longer smelled of rot, but did have the scent of the grave on him, something not quite alive. The casting kept him from being noticed by those with extra-sensitive noses. The spell was cast, and Fenwick climbed into the harness. Max was already looking at him.

"Track," said Max. Fenwick blinked.

"Den," said Max.

"Set. Spring." Four words. Practical, creature-related, the vocabulary of someone who paid attention to how things moved. Fenwick had not taught him any of them. He looked at the screen. Traps, Tricks, and Beasts. Chapters One through Sixteen.

"The guild," said Fenwick. The guild. Max was watching this exchange, following a conversation he could mostly keep up with. His head tilted slightly.

"More," he said.

"Yes," said Fenwick.

"More." The Adventurers Guild hall in Thornwall occupied a building that had been three different things before it became a guild hall, and the architecture showed it, each addition built atop the last. The board took up the entire eastern wall — a permanent installation of hooks and posting cards, organized by region, urgency, and the Guild's own classification system that Fenwick had learned over two months of daily visits. He had never brought Max inside before. This required a moment of management at the door.

The guild clerk — a young deer, first posting, the startled expression of someone who had not yet developed the professional detachment required for this job, he stared at Max and pulled his eyes away to look at Fenwick, and then he was lost in staring at Max again.

"He's with me," said Fenwick.

"He's—""With me," said Fenwick, with a tone borrowed from the elders of his Order, now that he had two silver sprigs and the Seal of the Eternal Flame, his word had to be listened to. Who better to practice on than a young clerk who needed to be minding his own business already? The clerk stepped aside. Max entered the guild hall, cataloging a new environment. His eyes moved across the mounted specimens of creatures on the walls and settled on the board. He walked directly to it. Fenwick followed.

The board had thirty-one active postings. Fenwick had learned to read it quickly, scanning by region, filtering by creature type, and noting the reward structures. He started at the top left as always. He got to the third posting before something made him slow down. ⟨ Posted Sign ⟩ Missing residents. Woolford settlement. Two families. Eight individuals total. Cknoll activity is suspected. He moved to the next. ⟨ Posted Sign ⟩ Missing silkworm stock. Riverside Farm. Complete loss. Cave activity noted nearby.

The next. ⟨ Posted Sign ⟩ Missing persons. Border settlement of Ashwick. Three families are unaccounted for. Guild scouts turned back at the cave entrance. Significant darkness reported. He stepped back. He looked at the board, noticing the shape of things. The distribution. The frequency. The clustering of a specific kind of posting in a specific location. One of the postings was even more alarming. The posting was only a town over from his family. He would need to send a second letter to his mother.

This was concerning.

"This is the most missing I've seen on one board," he said. It was not directed at anyone specific. Max was standing beside him. Sindy was on the screen. Neither of them answered. Fenwick looked at the postings for a long moment. Then he took out his notes. He wrote down the settlements, the dates, and the nature of the losses. He put his notes away. Max was looking at a posting near the bottom of the board.

Sindy had read all the postings to Max, which helped him with his words and recognition of what they looked like. One seemed to draw his attention, though.

"Max," said Fenwick.

"Which one?" Max pointed. Fenwick read the posting. ⟨ Posted Sign ⟩ Cknoll infestation. Barrow Farm, eastern Thornwood edge. Livestock losses. Two cknolls spotted. Reward: standard rate. Simple. Contained. Close to home. Exactly the kind of job that suited their current situation — close enough to manage the hunger bar, combat creatures Max could eat, a threat that matched their established capabilities.

"Why that one?" said Fenwick. Max was quiet for a moment. The vocabulary working through something.

"Small," he said.

"We do." Fenwick looked at him. We, Sindy noted, in the thread she did not share with anyone.

"All right," said Fenwick.

"That one." They were outside the guild hall, in the morning light, the posting in Fenwick's bag and the day ahead of them, when Max said it. He had been quiet since they left the board. His face showed that he was working through something, a word or a thought or a connection that hadn't finished assembling yet. Fenwick had learned not to interrupt this. The interruptions led to the word being lost, and lost words took longer to come back. Max stopped walking. He looked at Fenwick.

"Brother Fenwick," he said. Then, after a pause, the second part arriving separately, assembled with care: "Max brother." Fenwick went very still on the shoulder. Max had already started walking again, the sword at his back, two moccasins finding the path in their rhythm. He had said the thing and moved on. Fenwick sat on the shoulder and said nothing for a long time. He had a great deal to think about. ⟨ [SYSTEM PRIVATE LOG] ⟩ [Sindy — Private Log — Day 63] He called him Brother Fenwick. Then:"Max brother."

The second part was his own. I did not teach him that construction. He assembled it. I chose Traps, Tricks, and Beasts on purpose. I know I'm only a program, but that made me almost cry.