[Null POV] Year 0, Day 3 (Exploring Borderwatch Village)

  They stepped out into the village morning, ready to explore.

  Borderwatch Village was fully awake now. The streets buzzed with activity—adventurers preparing for hunts, merchants opening their shops, the constant flow of people moving through the central plaza.

  The village's layout became clear quickly. Everything radiated from the central well where they'd made their dramatic entrance. Businesses circled the plaza in a rough ring: food stalls with smoking grills and fresh bread, a weapon shop with racks of swords and axes visible through the windows, an armor smith with his forge already burning hot, a general goods store, a clothing merchant.

  Streets branched out from the center like a spiderweb, leading to residential areas and more specialized shops further out.

  And inns. So many inns.

  Null counted at least five within sight of the central plaza alone, and she could see signs for more down the side streets. Each had different names, different styles, but all clearly catered to the transient population.

  "The adventurer economy," Void explained through their connection as they walked. "Most people here don't settle permanently. They live in inns or rent houses short-term. Hunt monsters, sell materials, spend their coin, then move on to the next hunting ground when this area is depleted or they're ready for bigger challenges."

  "Temporary residents everywhere. That's why there are so many inns and rental properties."

  Null observed the flow of people. Most carried weapons openly. Many showed signs of their profession—scars, missing fingers, the casual confidence of those who'd survived dangerous encounters. Equipment varied wildly in quality, from battered hand-me-downs to obviously expensive custom work.

  And scattered among the humans were other races. Dwarves in groups, beastkin moving with predatory grace, horned individuals, green-skins. All mixing casually, all armed, all focused on the business of survival and profit.

  No one gave Void more than a curious glance—an elf was exotic but not unheard of. But they gave Null space. Wide berths. Respectful distance.

  The battlemaid aura was working. People sensed danger and stayed clear.

  "You're doing well, Mistress," Void commented. "The posture, the scanning, the subtle menace. Very convincing."

  "I'm just standing and looking at things."

  "Exactly. And people are interpreting it as constant threat assessment. Perfect."

  They passed a weapon shop. Null's eyes tracked the displayed swords automatically—evaluating quality, comparing to her own equipment, noting the differences in craftsmanship.

  "See? That's good. Battlemaids fixate on weapons. Your interest reads as professional obsession."

  "It IS professional interest. That blade is poorly balanced."

  "And noticing that makes you seem like a trained killer. Keep it up."

  The largest building in the village dominated the plaza's far side. Three stories tall, solid stone construction, with the Adventurer's Guild symbol prominently displayed above the entrance. Windows on every level, balconies overlooking the plaza, clear defensive architecture integrated into the design.

  The guild house. Visible from everywhere in the village. Impossible to miss.

  "Should we go inside?" Null asked.

  "Eventually. But perhaps not immediately. Let's observe more first. Understand the culture before we commit to anything official."

  They continued their circuit of the plaza. Null's attention was caught by the food stalls—not because she was hungry, but because of the smells.

  Grilled meat, charred and seasoned. Fresh bread, still warm from ovens. Spices she couldn't identify. Fruit she'd never seen before.

  She could smell all of it. Rich, complex, interesting.

  "Void, buy something from that stall."

  "Mistress, I just ate three full meals."

  "I want to test something. Buy it, eat it. See if I can taste it through our connection."

  Void paused, then understood. "Ah. An experiment. Very well."

  He approached a stall selling grilled meat skewers. The vendor—a large human woman with arms like tree trunks—greeted him warmly.

  "Fresh serpent meat, young master! Killed this morning, seasoned with desert spices. Two copper!"

  "I'll take one," Void said, producing the coins.

  The vendor handed him a skewer, still smoking from the grill. Void bit into it, chewing slowly.

  Null focused on their connection. Tried to sense what he was experiencing. The taste, the texture, the flavor—

  She got... something. Faint. Distant. An impression of Void's satisfaction, his enjoyment of the food. But not the actual taste itself. Just his emotional response to it.

  "Doesn't work that well," she observed, unable to hide a flicker of disappointment.

  "The connection shares thoughts and perceptions, but sensory experiences are more... personal. Too subjective to transfer directly."

  "I'll have to try eating myself later. Back in the room, away from observers. See if this body even processes food."

  "You're curious about eating. That's almost an emotion, Host."

  "It's practical investigation. Understanding my body's capabilities."

  "Sure it is."

  They continued walking, Void finishing his skewer. The residential streets were modest—simple wooden structures, some better maintained than others. More rental signs posted on doors and walls. A few permanent homes mixed in, distinguishable by their gardens and personal touches.

  The street curved back toward the plaza eventually. More shops here—a tailor, an apothecary with dried herbs hanging in the windows, what looked like a small library or records office.

  And a news stand. A wooden board covered in posted notices, announcements, quest listings.

  Void slowed, scanning the board. Null positioned herself slightly behind him, watching the surroundings while he read.

  Most postings were standard fare—monster bounties, missing persons, trade schedules—filtered through Void's understanding of the language. Local ordinances. Equipment sales.

  But one notice stood out. Larger. More prominently placed. Official guild seal at the top.

  "Auction," Void noted. "Two days from now. Taking place in the guild house."

  "What's being auctioned?"

  "It doesn't say. Just announces the event, the location, the time." Void frowned slightly. "Strange. Usually auction notices list at least some of the items to generate interest."

  "Maybe locals already know?"

  "Possibly. Could be regular event. Or the items are common knowledge in the community." Void stepped back from the board. "We could attend. Public event, no commitment required. Might be interesting to see what's valuable in this region."

  "Or ask someone what's being sold."

  "True, though that might reveal we're not local. Someone familiar with the area would probably know."

  "Add it to the list of things to figure out."

  They moved on from the news stand, completing their circuit. The village wasn't large—maybe an hour to see everything at a casual pace. But it was dense with information, with culture, with details Null was trying to absorb.

  And then, as they passed near the edge of the plaza, a group of children approached.

  Five or six of them, ranging in age from perhaps five to ten years old. All wearing ragged clothing, patched and worn. Dirty faces. Bare feet. Clearly poor, possibly orphans.

  They moved purposefully toward Null, not Void.

  The adults nearby noticed. Conversations stopped. People turned to watch.

  Null felt the shift in attention but didn't understand it. Just children. Small. Harmless.

  The oldest—a girl maybe ten years old—held out something in both hands. A flower. Wild-growing, bizarre-looking with pale blue petals and a strange spiral pattern in the center. Nothing particularly beautiful or special. Just an odd wildflower.

  She offered it to Null with both hands, a gesture that seemed formal despite her ragged appearance.

  The other children stood behind her, watching with serious expressions. Almost... solemn.

  Null looked at the flower. Looked at the child. Had absolutely no idea what this meant.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Some kind of cultural gesture? Tribute? Random act of kindness? A game?

  The girl kept holding the flower out, waiting. Her hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the weight of whatever this moment meant to her.

  Around them, the plaza had gone quiet. People watching. Some looked confused. Others looked... knowing? Concerned? Shocked?

  Null carefully took the flower with one hand. Examined it briefly. Just a wildflower, nothing remarkable about it that she could detect.

  She looked at the children, still confused about the appropriate response.

  Made a small bow. Mimicking the polite gestures she'd seen people exchange.

  The children's faces lit up. They bowed back—deeper, more respectful—then turned and ran off together, whispering urgently among themselves.

  Null stood there holding the flower, completely baffled.

  The adults were staring now. Some with shocked expressions. Others whispering urgently. Several people immediately headed toward the guild house, moving with purpose.

  "What was that about?" Null asked through the connection.

  "I... I'm not certain, Mistress." Void's mental voice was equally confused. "That was highly unusual."

  "Children giving flowers to a battlemaid? That seems weird even by this world's standards."

  "Children giving flowers to anyone isn't strange—it's a common gesture of gratitude, admiration, innocent affection. But to a battlemaid? That's... most children are terrified of battlemaids. Taught from young age to stay far away from them, never approach them, never interact."

  "These kids didn't seem scared at all."

  "No. They seemed purposeful. Deliberate. Like they were supposed to do this. Like it was important."

  "And everyone watching looked shocked. Then some ran to the guild house. What does that mean?"

  "I don't know. The reaction suggests this has significance, but I can't determine what. This might be some local custom I'm not familiar with. Some tradition specific to this village or region."

  "Should we ask someone?"

  "The innkeeper," Void suggested. "Mira. She seemed friendly. Helpful. We could ask her when we return. Frame it as curious travelers learning local customs."

  "Good idea. Casual inquiry, nothing that seems too invested."

  Null looked down at the flower in her hand. Pale blue petals with that strange spiral pattern. Nothing magical, nothing valuable. Just a bizarre wildflower that someone had picked and given to her for reasons she couldn't understand.

  She stored it carefully in her item box. Seemed safer than throwing it away in case it actually mattered.

  They decided to return to the inn. The flower incident had created enough stir for one morning. Better to retreat, gather information, understand what had just happened before continuing.

  The Wayward Traveler's common room was less crowded than earlier. Mira was behind the counter, and her expression shifted when she saw them return—concern mixed with resignation.

  "Back already, young master?"

  "Yes. We had a question, actually. Something... unusual happened in the plaza."

  "I heard." Mira's tone was dry. "The whole village has heard by now. The orphans gave your companion a flower."

  "You know about it already?"

  "Three people came to tell me in the last ten minutes. News travels fast here." Mira gestured for them to approach the counter, away from other guests. "May I ask—do you still have the flower?"

  Void glanced at Null. Through their connection: "Show her the flower, Mistress."

  Null reached into her item box and retrieved it. The wildflower materialized in her hand—pale blue petals with the spiral pattern, slightly wilted but intact.

  Mira's expression darkened immediately. "Oh, those clever little... that's a Phantom Bloom. What we call 'fake mage' locally."

  "Fake mage?" Void asked.

  "It's a desert border flower. Grows in the transition zones between sand and woodland. The plant generates a strong magical field around itself—mimics the signature of a powerful monster or mage being nearby. Natural defense mechanism. Real monsters sense the fake signature and avoid the area, thinking it's already claimed territory."

  Mira gestured to the flower. "Adventurers and locals who live near the border use patches of Phantom Blooms as safe spots. Camp there, rest there, hide there when being chased. The monsters won't come close because they think something dangerous is already present."

  "Clever plant," Spy observed.

  "In border settlements like ours," Mira continued, her tone growing more serious, "these flowers have been used since ancient times as a gesture. Offering a Phantom Bloom to someone means asking them to be a champion. A guardian. To protect the settlement like the flower protects its ground."

  "And accepting it means..."

  "Agreeing to that role. At least symbolically." Mira's expression showed both exasperation and genuine worry. "The problem is, some people take it seriously. Very seriously."

  "How so?"

  "It's sometimes used with... bad intent. People give Phantom Blooms to outsiders—usually powerful ones, adventurers passing through, anyone who looks capable of violence. The recipient accepts without knowing what it means. Then later, someone else in the village calls on that symbolic promise. Demands the 'champion' help with something. Protect against a threat. Fight a rival. Settle a dispute."

  Mira's voice grew harder. "Usually it sorts itself out—the person realizes they were tricked, refuses, leaves town. But every few years, someone with more muscles than brains decides to keep the promise they didn't know they made. Honor-bound idiots who can't back down once they've given their word, even accidentally."

  "And then?"

  "People die. Duels are fought. Blood feuds start. Entire families get involved. It becomes a mess that takes months to clean up." Mira shook her head, and something haunted flickered across her face. "I've seen three people die over this tradition in my time here. Good people. The guild tries to crack down on it, but the tradition is old. Deeply rooted. Hard to stop completely."

  She looked genuinely troubled now. "I'm honestly surprised the orphans did this. They're usually better behaved. Desperate for protection, yes, but not manipulative. This is more the kind of trick that adults with agendas pull." She paused, frowning. "Though... they have been more anxious lately. Something's been troubling them."

  "Perhaps they were just being children," Void suggested. "Hoping for a hero without understanding the complications."

  "Maybe." Mira didn't sound convinced. "Either way, I'll personally report this to the Guild Master. He'll sort it out. Make sure everyone understands there's no actual obligation here. Please, just ignore it. Don't let anyone try to hold you to some symbolic promise you never actually made."

  "We appreciate that," Void said. "Thank you for the warning."

  "Of course. Last thing we need is another incident with outsiders getting pulled into local politics." Mira managed a strained smile. "Is there anything else I can help with?"

  "Actually, yes. Could you send some food to our room? A variety if possible. I'd like to sample more of the local cuisine."

  Mira's expression shifted to something more cheerful. "Of course! I'll have a selection brought up shortly. Anything particular you'd like?"

  "Surprise me. Whatever's popular here."

  "Will do, young master!"

  Void headed for the stairs. Null followed, and they returned to their room.

  "You just ate enough for three people, and you're ordering more food?" Spy's voice carried confusion.

  "Not for me. For Mistress," Void replied. "She wanted to test if her body processes food. Now we have privacy to experiment."

  "Oh. Right. Good thinking." Null appreciated the consideration.

  They waited perhaps twenty minutes before a knock came at the door. Void opened it to find a servant girl—not Lina this time, someone else—carrying a large tray.

  "Your food, young master. We have grilled serpent, fresh bread, cheese, fruit, some honeyed pastries, and roasted vegetables."

  "Excellent. Thank you." Void tipped her a copper and took the tray.

  The girl left, and Void set the tray on the table. An impressive spread. Multiple dishes, all still warm or fresh.

  "Alright, Mistress. Your experiment."

  Null approached the table, studying the food. She could smell it all—the spices, the char on the meat, the sweetness of the pastries. But no hunger. No desire to eat. Just... curiosity.

  She picked up a piece of the grilled serpent. Examined it. Looked ordinary enough—cooked meat, seasoned, edible.

  She took a bite.

  The sensation was strange. Her mouth registered texture—the meat was tender, slightly chewy. Temperature—warm, but not hot. And taste. Actual taste. Savory, spiced, complex flavors that her tongue identified even without context for what they meant.

  "It works. I can taste it."

  "How does it feel?"

  "Strange. Like my body knows what to do with food even though I don't need it. The chewing, the swallowing, it's all... automatic."

  She swallowed. The food went down normally. No discomfort, no rejection.

  And then she waited.

  Seconds passed. Then minutes.

  And the food just... disappeared.

  Not literally. But she felt it break down inside her. Processed. Converted. And from it, a tiny trickle of energy flowed into her reserves.

  Incredibly tiny. Almost imperceptible.

  "I got something from it. Energy. But so weak I barely noticed it."

  "How weak?"

  "Compared to feeding? This is... barely anything. A mountain of food might equal one kill. Maybe. The efficiency is terrible."

  She paused, analyzing the sensation more carefully.

  "But there's something else. The energy helps, but something's still missing. I don't think I could survive on this alone even if I ate constantly. It's like... trying to fill a void with the wrong substance. It goes in, it helps a little, but it doesn't actually satisfy what I need."

  "So food is supplemental at best," Void said.

  "Exactly. Nice to have. But not survival. I still need to kill."

  "But you CAN eat. That's something."

  "Yes. And I can taste things."

  Null looked at the spread on the table. All these different flavors, textures, combinations. Things she'd never experienced before because she'd never needed to eat.

  "I want to try the rest."

  "For scientific purposes?" Spy asked dryly.

  "Exactly. Scientific."

  Null systematically worked through the tray. The bread—crusty outside, soft inside, slightly sweet. The cheese—sharp, aged, crumbly. The fruit—some kind of melon, juicy and refreshing. The pastries—honey-sweet, flaky, rich.

  Each bite gave her that same tiny trickle of energy. Negligible in practical terms. But the tastes...

  The tastes were interesting.

  "This is actually kind of nice," she admitted.

  The words hung in their mental connection for a moment.

  "Host," Spy said carefully. "You just expressed enjoyment. Pleasure. That's the first time since we arrived in this world."

  "Mistress... you're feeling something positive?"

  Null looked at the half-eaten pastry. The taste lingered—sweet, rich, complex. And in the emptiness where emotions should have been, there was... something. Small. Faint. But present.

  "I think so. It's not strong. Not like real emotions probably are. But the taste... it makes me feel something. Makes the void inside a little less empty."

  She took another bite, savoring it.

  "Even if it can't sustain me. Even if it's inefficient and unnecessary. This matters. Because it's the only thing that makes me feel even remotely... human."

  Void watched her work through the tray with something close to wonder. Two days ago, he'd sworn absolute loyalty to a being of overwhelming power. A Great One who'd broken him free from two centuries of slavery, restored his true form, granted him strength beyond imagining.

  And now that same being was discovering she could taste food and genuinely enjoying it.

  He had no right to question her interests, no authority to command or deny her anything. If his Mistress wanted to eat every food in this village, he would make it happen. They had plenty of coin from the caravan—enough to indulge any whim for months.

  And honestly? Seeing her find something—anything—that brought her satisfaction in that emotional void she existed in?

  Worth every copper.

  "Then we'll try everything, Mistress. Every food. Every taste. Whatever you want."

  "Thank you."

  "You two are being disgustingly wholesome," Spy commented. "I'm here for it, but also, gross."

  Null finished the tray, the food all converted into that negligible trickle of energy. Completely inefficient for survival, but the experience itself had been...

  Interesting. Worth doing again.

  Each taste a small spark in the emptiness inside her. Not enough to fill the void. But enough to make her want more.

  To make her want to feel that spark again.

  And again.

  "We should go back out," she said. "More things to see. More food to... observe."

  "Mistress," Void said carefully, "you just ate an entire tray meant for multiple people. Are you certain you want more... research... immediately?"

  "The energy gain is negligible. I'm not full. And there were other stalls. Different foods. Different tastes. I should test those too. Comprehensive data collection."

  "Host, you're making excuses to eat more food. Just admit you enjoyed it."

  "I'm being thorough."

  "You're being a glutton."

  "I don't have the emotional capacity to be a glutton. This is pure scientific curiosity."

  "Keep telling yourself that."

  Void stood, adjusting his clothing. "It's still morning. We have time for another circuit of the village. And if you want to... conduct more research... I suppose there's no harm. Just try to be subtle about it. We don't want people noticing behavioral changes too quickly."

  "I'll be subtle."

  "You're planning to systematically visit every food stall in the village, aren't you?"

  "...For science."

  Void sighed but couldn't entirely suppress his amusement. "Very well. Let's continue our 'research,' Mistress."

  They headed back out into the village. The morning sun was climbing higher, the day warming but not yet uncomfortably hot. More adventurers had returned from early hunts, carrying monster parts to sell. The plaza was busier than before.

  Null's eyes tracked the food stalls with perhaps slightly more interest than before.

  "In the end," Spy observed dryly, "the terrifying eldritch horror who broke Heaven and slaughtered five hundred people is defeated by the discovery of taste. Truly, we've come full circle."

  "Shut up, Spy."

  "Never."