Chương 129: Interlude - Complicated Communication

True adventurers are a dying breed. Not glorified mercenaries like the rangers, or prospectors in search of valuable land to sell to the nobility, but bonafide explorers. Knights itinerant, treasure hunters, wanderers in search of new and exciting things. [Adventurers]! Fargo Foren may well be the last of his kind—not Fa'aun, there are more than enough of them around—but rather, adventurers who explore the world for the sheer wonder of it. Mind you, it's easy to see why.

Adventuring is not generally a very profitable activity. Fargo has often had to suffer through harsh and miserable conditions for weeks or months at a time with absolutely nothing to show for it. But that's not the point! The point is to venture out further than any before him! To see the world over and return to tell the tale! Fargo has been to the jungles of the blessed land, he's dined with the chieftain of every old tribe, and he's sailed the ocean on the finest of Degala's ships.

He's explored convergence points, been driven out of the wastes beyond the Great Wheel by cave-dwelling Troglodytes, crossed the Stebaasa sea to meet with the giants of the far continent and survived one of their harsh winters. Over the years, he's accrued no shortage of friends, companions, and stories—but not much coin. Hence, his current extended stay under the hospitality of house Goa along with his lifelong partner Taaka.

"If only adventure wasn't so expensive, eh, Taaka?" In response, she chitters happily and darts into his pack to fish for something to snack on.

"You won't find anything in there, old girl," he chides his partner.

"Our hosts are generous, but I doubt they'd appreciate it if I just stuffed my bags full of food and left to see where the wind takes me." Taaka pokes her fuzzy head out of the satchel and hisses playfully.

"Yes, again," Fargo sighs.

"We should be thankful they forgave us the last time." She clambers out of the bag, her long and sinuous body twisting like a snake as she climbs up his arm to perch on his shoulder and start poking him in the cheek with a claw.

"Don't give me that, it was your idea," he says defensively.

"Always thinking with your stomach." His partner sniffs haughtily and turns away to clamber down his back, slapping his face with her fluffy tail as she goes.

"What do you mean better than thinking with my—?" Fargo is forced to abort that line of questioning when he nearly trips on a tiny figure sitting in the middle of the courtyard, right in the path of his daily stroll.

"Oops! Pardon me..." he trails off as he takes in the small person before him. Small enough to pass as a child and slight of build, the creature is almost entirely furless apart from the messy ginger hair on their head. Their skin is pale—though not quite as severely as that of a Troglodyte—and speckled with brown dots. He also notices a few places on their skin where the color changes abruptly, near the edges of their clothes, where the exposed skin is darker than the parts that are more covered.

The feminine curves of their body suggest that they are a woman, but Fargo's seen enough of the world to know better than to assume. Their clothes are mostly form-fitting, apart from a few more local accoutrements that appear to be added for the sole purpose of blending in. What draws Fargo's attention most, however, are the hairclips holding their hair in place—made of a completely unfamiliar material—and the spectacles over their eyes, which are by far the most intricate and finely crafted he's ever seen.

Normally he'd feel self-conscious about staring at somebody for so long, but apart from a brief glance after he nearly tripped over them, the person seems to be ignoring him entirely, staring down at a bizarre worm creature and muttering quietly to themself in a language he doesn't understand. Of course, he knows who this is. Everybody in the estate has been gossiping about the strange new guest, though strangely those rumors have been... mixed.

Some say that she is an intense and focused person, others claim she is distant and distracted, while yet more profess that she is quite friendly and talkative, with an insatiable intellectual curiosity. Rumors are well and good, but Fargo prefers to trust what he can see. And what he sees now is a rather closed off young person who appears to be trying to communicate telepathically with their strange pet.

They point, the worm follows their finger—which is impressive given its lack of eyes, so there is clearly some sort of [Tamer] skill involved—then turns back to them without further action, prompting them to smack it in the head. The worm creature curls up, dejected, and then the entire process repeats.

"Pardon the interruption, but I don't think you're going to get anywhere like that." The guest grimaces up at him for a moment, then turns away, deliberately ignoring him. Well, so much for being friendly and talkative. That's one rumor that he can cross off the list. Normally, he wouldn't press, but he cannot stand by and allow them to keep abusing the poor creature.

"You need to provide a signal it can interpret, you see?" he tries to explain.

"Your skill can only help it to understand a tiny portion of your intent. You need to communicate on its level, not try to force it to understand yours." They mutter balefully under their breath, then glare at... his shins? Fargo has just enough time to notice an odd warmth on his leg before the worm creature lunges at him with deceptive agility. He skips back just in time to avoid losing a chunk of his leg, and Taaka leaps down to confront the creature, hissing a warning as she prepares to defend him.

"Easy girl, easy," he assures his companion.

"We're not here to pick a fight." The guest snickers, her laughter a sort of giggling snort as they continue to babble in their own language. They put a particular stress on one word... po... pocka? It's no use trying to make sense of a completely foreign language, and it's clearly not one of the ones Fargo's learned in his travels. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He sighs and shakes his head, realizing that he needs to heed his own advice.

He's no stranger to language barriers and hostile strangers. The guest hasn't tried to stab him yet, which automatically makes them friendlier than the average Troglodyte. Clearly, this is a person who communicates only on their own terms, and if he's going to get anywhere with them, then he must meet them on their territory rather than forcing them into his.

"A fine demonstration," he says, kneeling down to stroke Taaka's fur in an effort to calm the agitated beast.

"I apologize for my ignorance. You are more advanced than I thought. A mage dabbling in taming? Where did you find a creature that can sense magic directly?" He already knows the only possible answer to that, but he's mostly just curious to see how they respond. It's no surprise when they just lower their eyes and shrug dismissively, producing a tiny little flame near the tip of their finger and feeding it to the worm. Do they have a license? Well, it's private property and Fargo's no snitch.

It's a pretty odd combination, though. Anomalous creatures do need magic to survive, but most tamers who acquire such companions already have the skills necessary to provide for them. In this case, they seem to be using their skills as a mage to compensate for their lack of skill as a tamer, but why? The smile on the guest's face as they gently pat the creature's head is all the answer Fargo needs.

"So you can communicate on its level, then," he muses, sidling up next to them.

"What seems to be the issue?" The guest scowls and edges away from him, then after a moment of hesitation points to an empty patch of dirt. A little flame spontaneously ignites there, like a very weak candle.

"Attack," they mutter quietly, voice flat and without emotion. So they can speak Fa'aun. Or at least one word of it. The worm dives onto the candleflame with vicious aplomb, tearing out a patch of dirt and swallowing it down without any apparent distress over the quality of its meal. The guest treats their worm to another little flame as a reward.

While Fargo wonders whether she's just ignoring him again, she repeats the process, only this time there's a subtle but unexplainable difference in the flickering little flame that he can't quite put his finger on.

"Walk," the guest says. But this time, the worm doesn't obey. It just looks between the flame and its companion with confusion, uncertain what is being asked of it. Fargo catches the guest's hand just in time to stop them from slapping the innocent creature again. With frankly alarming speed, they snatch their hand away from him and clamber backwards, clutching it to their chest and glaring at him with an expression that he can only describe as accusatory. Fargo holds his hands up defensively.

"Sorry, just trying to stop you from making a mistake," he insists.

"Given its nature, I presume you had to train it that way before, yes? Assert dominance to ensure that it wouldn't attack you in your sleep." They glare at him for a long moment without actually meeting his gaze, narrowing their eyes behind those interesting spectacles.

"Nipper." He blinks.

"Pardon?"

"His name is Nipper," they clarify.

"I see. And you?"

"... Maggie."

"Pleased to meet you, Maggie," he says, taking advantage of the moment to make a belated introduction.

"I am Fargo Foren, [Adventurer]." He leaves his tier out of the introduction—this is no time for bragging.

"If I may be so bold, are you male, female, or neither?" They mutter a confused curse under their breath in their own language.

"Are you stupid?"

"I'd like to think not," he chuckles.

"Some people are different, and I'd rather not assume you're a woman just because you look like one." Strangely, that relaxes them more than anything else he's said, and while their body language doesn't exactly become open, they aren't quite as closed off as they shuffle back over.

"I'm a woman," she answers.

"She and her." It's interesting that she would clarify something so obvious, especially when it's a fairly basic bit of grammar in a language that is not her first. Perhaps a cultural thing he's not aware of. Apparently losing interest in the conversation, Maggie turns her attention back to Nipper, continuing to repeat her exercise—though without the punishment. Fargo watches as she makes a few more failed attempts before scowling and huffing irritably.

"How?" she asks without looking up from her work.

"I'm not hurting him, and he doesn't know any other kind of 'no.'" Huh. Her command of the language is much better than he would have assumed from their interactions so far. Fargo supposes that she just doesn't like talking. Who the hell said she was talkative?

"The punishment isn't the problem," he explains, "though you should make a point of teaching him another way to understand that he's made a mistake. He doesn't understand what you're asking of him in the first place."

"Yeah, I know," she grumbles.

"I'm trying to teach him. It worked before."

"Before, you were just establishing a bond," Fargo says.

"You taught him not to bite you, and that he'd have food as long as he stayed with you. It looks like somebody has taught you some basic commands, but I'm guessing you've only gotten as far as 'attack' and 'don't attack' right?" She nods.

"The issue is that Nipper understands anything other than your attack command as 'don't attack.' So when you punish him for that, he gets confused. You didn't say attack, so he didn't attack, but then you punished him. You see the problem?"

"Sure."

"Training new commands from scratch is very difficult without skills," Fargo adds.

"And even if you manage it, a creature like this is going to require significant class investment to care for properly. You cannot raise Nipper as a hobby."

"I know," she huffs.

"Talla said. Need to level up before he evolves, right?" It's good that she's already aware of that.

"Yes. But it doesn't end there. Nipper will grow into a more complex creature, both physically and emotionally. You should stop thinking of him as a pet, and more like a child or companion. Taaka, come say hello." His partner leaps up onto his outstretched arm and gives Maggie a toothy grin, chittering cheerfully.

"Taaka is 'just' a normal animal, but under my care she's become almost as smart as a Fa'aun child." Her claws dig painfully into his wrist.

"Ow! Okay, smarter! Ow, ow! Stop! As smart as a regular person! More! Smarter than I am—she takes care of me, really!" She finally eases off and skitters up onto his head, curling around his horns as he rubs at his arm. Maggie giggles at the exchange.

"I'm serious," she says after composing herself.

"I'll make raising Nipper part of our core class." Fargo raises his eyebrows. That's a bold claim.

"You mean you'll switch to a new one?" She shakes her head.

"No. Four-star. Nipper is with us for life." Well then.

"In that case, may I offer my assistance?" Fargo asks.

"I cannot promise a full apprenticeship, but I am between adventures at the moment and by far the easiest way to train a tamed beast is by demonstration." It's more than he'd planned on offering, but he can't help but be moved by the young woman's resolve. Though his own resolve wavers slightly when she responds by simply shrugging and turning away again.

"Yeah, sure, if you want," she mutters. Fargo is just about to reconsider his offer when she mumbles one more word, barely audible.

"Thanks." He sighs. The girl could learn a thing or two about proper communication from Taaka. But if Fargo can be best friends with a ferret, then surely he can manage one surly apprentice, just for a while.