[22 POV] Year 2, Day 175 (One week after joining)

  Training was complete.

  Five days. One hundred twenty hours of forcing Ealdred to run continuous sessions until she'd absorbed everything.

  He'd complied. Probably been happy to be rid of her by the end.

  The whip had been... educational. Over one hundred strikes that first day when she'd disagreed about tea service technique. The pain was irrelevant—her body could handle far worse—but the implication was clear.

  Then Null's voice through the network: ?Ealdred knows maid way. Follow.?

  And the warning from another maid: ?Last one who challenged Ealdred got her seed pulled out same day. Useless.?

  22 had understood immediately. Failure meant death. Removal. End of service to the Divine One.

  So she'd forced Ealdred to teach everything. Twenty-four hours per day. No breaks. No delays. Every technique, every standard, every expectation. Relentless absorption until she'd mastered it all.

  Ealdred had seemed relieved when she'd completed the hundred universal points. "You're done. Go. Serve your master properly."

  Now she stood in her quarters. Reviewing what she'd learned. Not just maid skills—those were simple enough—but the people here. The dynamics. The power structures.

  Void.

  Soft. Too soft for a master.

  He didn't command. Didn't control. He had one of the most powerful creatures in existence—Null—completely devoted to him. And he did nothing with it. Just... let her exist. Let her operate. Gave suggestions instead of orders.

  Building this establishment in the middle of nowhere. For reasons 22 couldn't quite determine. Purpose unclear. Strategy uncertain.

  Ex-slave. Two hundred years in chains according to network gossip. That explained some things. The gentleness. The conflict-aversion. The way he accommodated rather than demanded.

  He had scars. Mental ones. Deep ones. The kind that made certain behaviors impossible. Certain thoughts unbearable.

  She'd seen it directly. When she'd tried cutting her ears. His breakdown. Complete and total. Something in him had shattered seeing it. Some old wound reopened.

  He avoided her now. Uncomfortable. She reminded him of something he couldn't handle.

  Good master to serve. Kind. Generous. But weak in ways that matter. Null protects him. Kira manages things he can't face. That's the real structure here.

  Null.

  Dangerous monster. But harmless when properly handled.

  She obeyed Master Void absolutely—that was her primary directive. Maids were her pack. She protected them, maintained them, kept them functional. She was intelligent. Strategic. Capable of complex planning and execution.

  But her understanding of human concepts was very low. She'd destroyed an entire domain in Church State—hundreds of thousands dead—for reasons 22 couldn't determine. Petty revenge maybe? Some principle? Unclear.

  She killed failed maid candidates without hesitation. Removed their seeds. Instant termination. No mercy. No second chances.

  And she had obsessions that made no logical sense. Hot springs despite not needing them. Food despite not requiring nutrition. Random fixations that drove major decisions.

  She also took Ealdred's training and punishment with no issues. Corner time. Discipline. Accepted it all professionally. Though 22 wasn't sure if it actually counted as punishment—she'd overheard maids gossiping in the seed network that Null had a marked corner in her own room where she "rested" by standing perfectly still while the Twins slept curled at her feet. Absurd. If standing in corners was how she relaxed anyway, sending her to stand in training corners wasn't exactly punitive.

  The pattern was clear enough. Predictable. Follow simple rules: serve Void, support maids, don't fail, stay useful. Survivable if approached correctly.

  The Twins.

  Equally dangerous creatures.

  They had the intelligence of small children. Didn't process consequences properly. Couldn't understand the weight of their actions. But they always followed Null. Did what she said. No exceptions. They were under her near-total control—22 was ninety-nine percent certain they obeyed her above everyone else.

  They also accepted corner punishment without complaint. Often ended up there with Null due to linked evaluation. Apparently slept through most of it—just curled up in fox form and napped. Again, questionable if this constituted actual punishment for creatures who seemed perfectly content standing in corners with their "big sis."

  Originally they'd been Ealdred's pets. His monsters. But Null had control now. Complete control. He'd lost them.

  They seemed confused about "master" themselves. Called Ealdred "Master" but also called Null "big sis" and Void "big sis's master." The hierarchy was unclear to them. If conflict arose between Null and Ealdred, they'd probably side with Null. Maybe even kill Ealdred if she commanded it.

  Assessment: dangerous variables. Avoid testing their boundaries. Don't challenge them. Don't provoke them. Just... coexist carefully.

  Ealdred.

  This one puzzled her.

  He'd invested mountains of gold. Construction. Training. Infrastructure. Equipment. Support that would never—could never—earn itself back. The numbers didn't work. The timeline was impossible. This was massive loss by any reasonable calculation.

  And he'd lost the Twins. They'd been his originally. His pets. His controlled monsters.

  But Null had taken them. Not forcefully—just naturally. They'd gravitated to her. Chosen her. Now they were hers ninety-nine percent. Maybe one hundred percent.

  What is his play here? What does he gain? I can't understand it. There's no logic. Or I'm missing critical context.

  She couldn't figure it out. Filed it for later analysis.

  Spy.

  The Divine One avoided her now.

  She understood why. Her worship was... excessive. Uncomfortable. Improper behavior that drove him to invisibility.

  She was trying to change. Slowly. With difficulty. Because it felt wrong. Dishonoring. Insufficient devotion.

  But he'd commanded it. Through Kira. Through delegation.

  Obey. Adapt. Serve properly even if instincts scream otherwise.

  Kira.

  Bossy. Direct. Competent.

  She'd assigned 22 the hot springs project immediately. "Fix this. It's causing delays to entire construction. Everything else is waiting."

  22 had spent the last few days reviewing research. Previous attempts. Failed proposals. Abandoned prototypes.

  Multiple mages had given up. Declared it impossible. Walked away.

  The problem was clear: engineering a ley line this size required power that didn't exist. Methods that weren't viable. Techniques beyond current capability.

  But maybe not beyond what exists HERE. With these monsters. This wrongness made manifest.

  She needed more data. Needed to survey underground. Check what previous researchers had ignored. Go deeper. Find something workable.

  If it's possible at all.

  There was also the name issue.

  Kira used her full family name. Razorclaw. Openly. Proudly.

  22 found it... improper. Servants shouldn't display noble names so boldly. Should minimize identity. Focus on service. She herself had no name anymore—had removed everything. Was just a number now. A designation. That felt correct for a servant.

  But the day after 22 had joined, Kira had apparently asked Void for permission to use her family name. He'd approved. Publicly. Through the seed network. Broadcast to everyone.

  Nobody had objected. Everyone accepted it. Normal.

  22 was the only one bothered.

  So perhaps I'm the abnormal one. Not her.

  The thought was uncomfortable. But probably accurate.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The seed network was another frustration.

  Something so AWESOME—divine gift connecting minds across distance—and these maids used it for chitchat. Gossip. Small talk. Irrelevant nonsense.

  She'd seen Spy participate occasionally. Brief comments. Dry observations. Then vanishing when she tried to join.

  Actually, everyone vanished when she tried to join. The conversation would just... stop. Silence. Then resume elsewhere later.

  They're avoiding me. Deliberately. Because I make it uncomfortable.

  That realization stung. But she couldn't figure out how to fix it.

  Focus on work. On service. On being useful. Social integration can wait.

  The call came through the network. Kira's voice. Professional.

  ?Need volunteers. Courtesan pickup from city airpad. Several maids required.?

  22 responded immediately. ?I'll go.?

  A pause. Then Kira: ?Thank you, 22. Meet at the entrance in ten minutes.?

  Perfect. She needed air anyway. Space to think about the hot springs problem. And a break from the network chitchat she couldn't participate in.

  Ten minutes later, she joined three other maids at the entrance. Professional. Ready.

  Kira arrived. Gave instructions. "Five courtesans arriving. Contracted for extended stay. They'll teach specialized service skills. Be professional. Be courteous. Use your item box to carry their luggage, 22—they'll have substantial belongings."

  "Understood, Lady Kira."

  They walked to the city airpad. The official one—just an empty field at the city's edge. A few Guild officials stood with flags to mark landing zones. Nothing else. No infrastructure. No facilities. Basic. Crude.

  22 glanced back toward their own airpad. Still under construction but already far more proper. Actual landing platforms. Designated areas. Real infrastructure being built.

  Theirs will be better. Obviously. When it opens.

  A small airship descended. Modest size. Well-maintained though. Professional operation.

  Five women disembarked. Courtesans. Professional. High-quality.

  22 assessed them automatically. Not bad. In his past life, he'd used courtesan services. No—she. She'd used them. Different life. Knew quality when she saw it regardless. These were skilled. Experienced. Top-tier probably.

  Three carried themselves with confidence. Superiority. The kind who expected deference and got it.

  Two kept lower profiles. Quieter. More careful. Calculating maybe. Or just more experienced at reading situations.

  Kira stepped forward. Professional. "Welcome to Borderwatch. I'm Kira Razorclaw, head maid of this establishment. We're pleased to host you during your contract period."

  One of the women—a dryad, exotic, beautiful with green-tinted skin and flowering vine hair—paused at the name. Recognition flickered across her face.

  "Razorclaw?" Her voice was smooth but carried interest. "Oh, how interesting. I knew someone with that family name. Client of mine, actually. Few years back now." She tilted her head slightly. Thinking. Trying to remember. "Can't quite recall his first name though. He was... well, let's say he kept our appointments brief. Very practical about his visits. Didn't spend much time with me, if you understand my meaning."

  The implication was clear without being crude: budget client, nothing memorable, not worth remembering.

  The dryad's gaze sharpened. Assessing Kira more carefully now. "So you're working as head maid these days? That's quite a change, isn't it? I mean, no judgment of course. These things happen. Families have their ups and downs. Fortunes change. Perfectly normal." Her tone suggested it was anything but normal. Polite condescension wrapped in cultured sympathy.

  Kira's expression didn't shift. Pleasant. Professional. Unruffled. "My family continues their work as merchants. I've chosen different service. Master Void's operation offers... unique opportunities."

  The answer revealed nothing while sounding cooperative. Perfect deflection that gave no real information but appeared helpful.

  22 observed silently. Kira handles this well. No defensiveness. No explanation. Just pleasantness that reveals nothing.

  The dryad seemed amused. Like she'd expected discomfort and got calm professionalism instead. "How lovely. Well then, shall we proceed? I'm sure our luggage needs handling, and we're all quite tired from the journey."

  She gestured at the substantial pile of cases and trunks. Expensive. Numerous. More than seemed necessary for five people.

  "Of course." 22 stepped forward. Opened her item box. Began storing luggage systematically. Efficient. Professional.

  The courtesans watched with interest. Item boxes weren't rare but weren't common either. Seeing a maid with one suggested resources. Investment. Serious backing.

  "Convenient," the dryad commented. "Your establishment seems well-funded. That's reassuring. Some of the places we've contracted with before were... less prepared than advertised."

  "Master Void ensures we have proper tools," Kira said simply.

  They began walking. Through the city. Toward the compound.

  And immediately, 22 noticed the attention.

  Eyes. Everywhere. Locals stopping to watch. Merchants pausing mid-transaction. Adventurers staring openly.

  Five high-end courtesans. Walking through Borderwatch. Accompanied by maids in matching uniforms. Heading toward the massive construction project everyone had been gossiping about for two years.

  Free entertainment. Free gossip material. They'll talk about this for weeks.

  The three confident courtesans seemed to enjoy it. Walked with practiced grace. Let themselves be seen. probably. Building reputation in a new city.

  The two quieter ones looked less pleased. More uncomfortable with the attention. Professional caution maybe. Or just different personalities.

  22 tuned out the spectacle. Focused inward instead. On the problem occupying her thoughts.

  Hot springs. Ley line engineering. Impossible task.

  Previous researchers surveyed surface manifestations. Measured output. Calculated power requirements. All gave up when numbers became absurd.

  But they didn't go deep enough. Didn't check what's actually happening underground. Just assumed based on surface readings.

  Need to survey properly. Map the ley line's actual structure. Find where reactions occur. See if there's something workable.

  Probably requires going very deep. Possibly dangerous. Definitely time-consuming.

  But it's the only approach they haven't tried yet.

  She filed the thought. Continued walking. Barely noticing the city around them.

  The compound came into view. Massive. Impressive even incomplete. Evidence of serious investment. Serious ambition.

  The courtesans' expressions shifted. Reassessment. This wasn't some small operation trying to look bigger. This was major construction. Continental-scale resources. Real backing.

  They entered through the main gate. Kira guided them toward prepared quarters. "Your accommodations are ready. 22, please bring their luggage to the designated rooms."

  "Yes, Lady Kira."

  Kira led the courtesans away. Professional. Efficient. Leaving 22 to handle logistics.

  22 accessed her item box. Retrieved luggage. Organized it. Delivered it to correct locations. Systematic. Thorough.

  Task complete.

  She stood alone in the corridor. Finally. Air achieved. Thinking space acquired.

  Now. Hot springs. Underground survey. Need to plan approach. Figure out methodology. Gather proper equipment.

  Previous researchers didn't go deep enough. Surface readings only. Need to map the actual ley line structure. See what's really happening down there.

  Dangerous probably. Time-consuming definitely. But it's the only method they haven't tried.

  She returned to her quarters. Mind already working through calculations. Through possibilities. Through the impossible task that maybe—just maybe—wasn't quite as impossible as everyone believed.

  [Sara POV]

  High above Borderwatch, Sara floated. Wings spread wide. Motionless. Watching.

  The maids walked through the city. Five of them. Professional. Matching uniforms. Heading toward the airpad.

  Sara counts them. Kira Razorclaw, the head maid from proud merchant family. Three others—Sara knows bits about them too. Names. Pieces. Fragments collected through watching. And intel bought from assassin guild. And... that one.

  The ex-archmage. The one who was powerful. Important. Now just... walking with them. Looking happy. Fitting in. Has nice home. Has people who accept her. Has everything.

  Sara powerful too. But Sara gets what? Nothing. Just watching from up high.

  The bitterness settled deeper.

  Sara had seen them leave the compound. Curiosity pulled her to follow. What were they doing? Why the city airpad instead of their own construction?

  Picking up someone. Multiple someones. Sara watches.

  The airship descended. Small. Well-maintained. Five women disembarked.

  Courtesans. Sara recognized the profession immediately. The way they moved. Carried themselves. Professional grace.

  Then Sara saw her.

  Harpy. Beautiful one. Wings glossy. Feathers perfect. Face happy. Smiling at something one of the others said.

  Happy harpy. Living good life. Has pretty things. Nice clothes. Probably sleeps in soft bed. Eats good food. Safe.

  The rage bubbled up. Hot. Bitter. Familiar.

  Sara's big sisters said "you need get strong." Said "weak harpies get hurt." Said "only strong ones survive." Said "train hard, Sara. Be powerful. Then you'll be safe."

  Sara got strong. Became powerful. Did everything right.

  And what Sara got? Lonely. Scared. No home. No family. No soft bed or pretty things. Just... watching from high up while other harpies live happy lives.

  She wanted to scream at the happy harpy below. To ask: How? How do you get to be happy? Sara did everything big sisters said! But somehow Sara ended up here and you ended up there!

  Big sisters lied. Being strong didn't make Sara safe. Made Sara alone.

  The bitterness settled. Heavy. Familiar weight she carried everywhere.

  Stupid happy harpy probably never trained hard. Probably soft. But gets good life anyway.

  Not fair.

  She forced herself to look away. To breathe. To not think about it.

  Then something else caught her attention.

  One of the courtesans. Dryad. Green-skinned. Flowering vines in hair.

  Something was wrong. Off.

  Sara focused. Watched carefully.

  The dryad's mouth moved. But no sound reached Sara's ears. And Sara had excellent hearing.

  But the mouth movements looked completely normal. Natural. Like regular speech. Nothing obviously wrong. Can't even lip-read it—just garbled movements that mean nothing unless you're close enough to actually hear.

  Wait. That's... that's perfect silence-speaking! Speech that doesn't travel far. Only those close by can hear!

  Sara dropped lower. Carefully. Staying hidden but getting closer. Watching intently.

  The dryad continued. Mouth moving naturally. Speaking normally to those nearby. But Sara—high above—heard nothing. The sound simply didn't reach that far.

  Sara knows this exists! Sara tried to learn! Took more than century just to master basic silence-speaking with mirror! This is next level! Master level!

  It was incredibly difficult. Speaking normally—looking completely natural—while somehow making the sound travel only short distances. To those nearby, nothing seemed unusual. Complete conversations happening that nobody else could hear. So convincing it even fooled powerful people. Like that ex-archmage walking with them—22 probably had no idea the dryad's speech was different.

  Sara watched the group walk back toward the compound. The dryad chatting with Kira. Always speaking that way. Sound that only traveled to those nearby. Never switching to normal projection.

  That's complete mastery. Dryad ONLY speaks like this. Sound that doesn't travel far. Can't speak normally anymore.

  That means years of training. Maybe decades. Until normal speech became impossible. Until this became only way to communicate.

  She knew how silence-speaking was taught. Many lords tried teaching it to their servants. Maybe one in hundred succeed. Most servants ignored the teachings—didn't try, gave up, let themselves be "motivated" over and over but never actually learned. Too hard. Too painful. Not worth effort.

  But sometimes you got a good student. Someone who actually tried. Who practiced. Who respected their master's teachings enough to put in the work. And if they were lucky—if they got a good master who taught correctly—they mastered it completely. Until it became instinct. Until they couldn't remember speaking any other way.

  She was probably good student. Probably had good master who taught properly. Put in years of practice until this became natural. Until normal speech disappeared completely and only this remained.

  Sara studied the dryad more carefully as they walked. The way she moved. Carried herself. That pleasant smile. The perfect silence that never broke.

  Hard to see if you didn't know what to look for. But Sara knew. Sara had stalked enough lords. Watched their households. Observed their servants. Learned how ones who were whipped hard acted later. Tiny habits. Old shadows.

  She's been whipped. Extremely. Some point in distant past. Only shadows left now. In how she holds shoulders. How she moves when she thinks nobody's watching. Tiny things. Old things.

  But she mastered what she was taught. Became excellent. Earned respect through skill.

  Good student. Good master. Good training. Rare combination.

  Sara felt something unfamiliar. Not quite respect. But... acknowledgment maybe. Recognition of serious skill seriously earned.

  She wanted to scream. At the happy harpy. At the unfairness of everything. At how some people got good lives for being soft and others got good lives for being excellent and Sara just got... this.

  Sara flew away. Fast. Hard. Away from the city. Away from the happy harpy and the excellent dryad and all the things that made her chest hurt.