[Null POV] Year 0, Day 3 (First morning in Borderwatch Village)

  Null stood behind Void's chair in the inn's common room, hands clasped in front of her, eyes scanning the space with methodical precision.

  This was roleplay. Just roleplay. Like those players in-game who got really into their characters, spoke in elaborate accents, committed to the bit completely. They'd always said it was fun, immersive, added depth to the experience.

  She'd never bothered with it before. Always played efficiently. Practically. Got the objectives done and moved on.

  But now? Standing here, playing a role, observing without participating?

  Actually kind of interesting.

  And honestly, it fit her perfectly. The battlemaid role required her to just stand there looking threatening while Void handled everything social. No talking. No decisions. No navigating complex interactions she didn't understand.

  Perfect for someone lazy.

  Or someone who was slowly realizing nothing really mattered anymore.

  The bath last night had been an experiment. Hot water. She'd registered the temperature intellectually—hot enough to scald normal skin—but felt nothing. No pleasure. No discomfort. Ice cold or boiling hot would have been identical. Just... temperature. A fact her mind noted and discarded.

  Her body didn't seem to get dirty anyway. The uniform remained pristine despite crossing a desert. No sweat. No dust that stuck. Another detail that should have bothered her but didn't.

  She couldn't sleep. Couldn't feel tired. Had discovered it when Void passed out almost immediately after their first meal. She'd tried to do the same. Closed her eyes, lay down on the second bed in their room, attempted to rest.

  Nothing. No drowsiness. No fatigue. Just... awake.

  After an hour of trying, she'd given up and just sat in the chair by the window. All night. Just sitting. Thinking. Watching the village through the glass.

  Processing everything that had happened since waking under that tree. The transformation. The feeding. The killing. Void. The plan. The equipment. The world.

  And the hollowness inside where emotions should have been.

  She couldn't feel much of anything except the cold satisfaction of feeding and the mechanical analysis of threats. The Guild Master yesterday had been the strongest person she'd encountered in this world. Impressive by local standards. And yet, if she really tried—if she stopped pretending and just acted—she could probably kill everyone in this village before they understood what was happening.

  That thought should have horrified her.

  It didn't.

  Just tactical assessment. Predator math. The mechanical calculation of threat levels and optimal kill paths.

  The only thing that felt like purpose anymore was following Void. Listening through him. Learning. He made decisions. Navigated the social complexity. Gave her something to focus on besides the emptiness.

  Master and servant. Except she wasn't entirely sure which of them needed the other more.

  Maybe that was fine. Maybe purpose was enough.

  Plus, she couldn't change outfits anyway. This maid uniform was her only defense against holy magic. Those weak priests in the desert had barely hurt her—just stinging, uncomfortable. But she had no idea what strong divine magic could do. Real priests. Paladins. Holy warriors at full power.

  Until she understood that threat better, she couldn't risk switching equipment.

  Might as well get comfortable being a maid.

  Not that she had to do actual maid duties. Just stand there. Look dangerous. Occasionally follow Void around.

  Easy.

  Void was eating again. His third plate of breakfast. The innkeeper—a round, cheerful human woman named Mira—had stopped looking surprised after the second serving and just kept bringing food.

  The common room was busy. Morning crowd. Adventurers eating breakfast before heading out to hunt. Merchants discussing trade routes. Travelers planning their next moves.

  And Null, for the first time, was seeing the full diversity of this world's population up close.

  Humans, obviously. Most common. Various ages, builds, equipment levels.

  Dwarves at one table, talking in loud voices, already drinking despite the early hour. Short, broad, heavily bearded. Practical equipment, well-maintained.

  Beastkin scattered throughout. Cat ears, wolf ears, fox traits. Some with tails, others without. All with that subtle predatory quality in their movements.

  Horned humanoids—what Void had called oni or tieflings depending on their exact features. Red skin, blue skin, some nearly human-colored. Horns in various configurations.

  Green-skins that might have been orcs or goblins or something else entirely. Larger builds, tusked mouths, rough features.

  All of them armed. All of them comfortable with weapons. Swords and axes leaning against tables, bows and quivers hung on chair backs, daggers visible at every belt.

  This wasn't like the caravan. There, weapons had been tools of oppression. Here, they were just... normal. Expected. Part of daily life.

  Professional killers, all of them. Monster hunters. Adventurers.

  And none of them looked twice at Null's visible weapons. Just at her. At her aura. At the way she stood and watched.

  They recognized what she was. Or what she was pretending to be.

  And they gave her space.

  "Great One," Void's voice came through their connection. "You're staring again. Battlemaids don't stare with interest. They scan for threats."

  "I'm scanning. There's a lot to scan. Different races. Equipment. Power levels. All new to me."

  "You're fascinated by the diversity. I can feel it through our bond. Try to look more... menacing. Less curious."

  "I'm menacing. See? Dead stare. No expression."

  "You look intrigued. That's different."

  "He's right, Host. You look like a tourist, not a trained killer. Less 'I will murder you' and more 'oh, interesting, a dwarf.'"

  Null adjusted her expression. Tried for more threatening. More mechanical.

  Void sighed mentally. "Better. But you're still too relaxed. Battlemaids are always tense. Always ready. They don't rest, even when standing still."

  "That sounds exhausting."

  "They're conditioned to find it natural. You're... adapting."

  "For what I understand, battlemaids are strange weirdos anyway. That service girl already saw me taking a bath last night while you slept fully clothed on the bed—not exactly noble behavior. Then she caught you dressing me in the middle of the night. I think we've already blown past 'respectable' in every possible way."

  Void nearly choked on his food. Managed to swallow. Took a drink to cover his reaction.

  "That's... a fair point, Great One."

  "Besides, if I'm supposed to be an unstable, psychopathic, obsessive battlemaid... wouldn't being interested in weapons fit that? Battlemaids are weapon fetishists, right? Obsessed with tools of violence?"

  "I... yes. Battlemaids do fixate on weapons and combat. Your interest in that dwarf's axe earlier could be interpreted as professional assessment or dangerous obsession. Either works for the role."

  "Then I'll keep doing what I'm doing. Standing. Watching. Being interested in interesting things. If people think I'm weird, that just makes me more authentic as a battlemaid."

  Void had no counter to that logic.

  "She's got you there. The more abnormal she acts, the more it fits the cover. It's kind of perfect."

  Void took another bite of food, using the action to cover his reaction. Out loud, to any observer, he was just a young noble eating breakfast while his battlemaid stood watch.

  Behind the silence of their shared bond, a far more intricate dialogue was unfolding in secret.

  "We should also discuss communication security," Spy said. "Our soul bond—can it be intercepted? Monitored?"

  "Good question. Can people eavesdrop on us?"

  "Standard telepathy can be intercepted, yes. Some trade guild houses, especially in major cities, have entire buildings inscribed with massive magical circles designed to detect and monitor telepathic messages. It's rare and expensive, but it happens. Paranoid merchants use it to catch spies. Governments use it for intelligence gathering."

  "However, what we share is not standard telepathy. It's soul-to-soul communication. The bond created by the seed connects our very essences. It's similar to what tamers use to communicate with their bound familiars—a connection that bypasses language, bypasses thought, operates on a deeper level."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "And that can't be intercepted?"

  "The content cannot be intercepted or monitored, no. However, detection is theoretically possible for those with the right abilities—shamans, soul seers, certain rare spiritual classes. They might be able to perceive that there IS a connection between us. They might even see that information is flowing through it, that something is being shared. But not what we're saying. Just that we're connected on a soul level and communicating."

  "Such abilities are extremely rare though. I've only read about a handful of individuals across the entire continent who possess true soul-sight. And even they can only detect the connection's existence, nothing more. The content of our conversations remains completely private."

  "So the risk is someone noticing the bond exists and asking questions?"

  "Yes, Honored Spy. But a soul bond between master and servant is exotic but not impossible. If questioned, we can claim it was established through expensive ritual to ensure perfect loyalty and coordination. Wealthy nobles sometimes do this with their most valuable servants—especially battlemaids, where absolute obedience and instant communication can mean the difference between life and death."

  "It's rare enough that most people wouldn't know the details to challenge our story. And the existence of such a bond actually reinforces our cover—explains the telepathic coordination, the instant responses, the perfect synchronization."

  "The chances of encountering someone with soul-sight in a border village are minimal anyway. Such individuals are usually employed by major powers, kept in capitals or important cities where their talents are most valuable."

  "So we're safe to talk like this."

  "Yes. Though we should still be cautious about what we say aloud or do in public. Truth magic, observation, normal investigation—those are still risks."

  "We should stay here for at least a week," Void continued. "Let me recover properly from the magic overdraft. When a mage uses more magic than their reserves can sustain, they go 'negative'—essentially taking a loan from their body's own life force. That debt must be repaid through rest and nutrition, otherwise there are consequences. Magical instability, physical weakness, in extreme cases even permanent damage to my mana channels."

  "A week of proper food and rest should fully restore my reserves. But if I try to use heavy magic before then, the side effects could be unpredictable."

  "Fine by me," Null said. "Gives us time to observe. Learn. Adapt."

  "Also gives the surveillance time to relax. They're watching us pretty carefully right now."

  "You noticed?" Void asked.

  "The service girl's eyes kept jumping to the untouched food last night. The guards passing by the window more frequently than patrol routes would suggest. The morning check was earlier than standard inn service. We're being observed. Closely."

  "That's... concerning."

  "Not really. We expected it. Strangers with obvious power showing up at a border village? Of course they're watching. Just means we need to be careful about what they see."

  "Should we take the food next time?" Null asked. "Even if I'm not eating it? Leaving it untouched keeps drawing attention."

  "Yes, Great One. That would be wise. Make it disappear somehow. Store it in your item box, dispose of it discreetly. Anything to appear more normal."

  "Or I could actually try eating it. See if this body processes food."

  "You don't feel hunger though. Would eating even do anything?"

  "Only one way to find out. But later. When we're not being watched so carefully."

  "About that translation thing," Null continued. "I figured something out yesterday. When you talk to someone—when you're having a conversation in the local language—I can understand it through our bond. Not directly, but you're processing what they're saying, translating it in your mind, and I'm getting that through our connection. Even what the other person says, as long as you're listening to them."

  Void paused, considering this. "That's... actually correct, Great One. I hadn't thought about it explicitly, but yes. When I hear someone speak, I understand them automatically. And since we share a soul bond, you should be able to access that understanding if you're paying attention to the same conversation."

  "If Null gets it, then I get it too," Spy added. "I perceive everything she perceives. So theoretically, all three of us can follow conversations as long as Void is present and listening."

  "That's remarkably useful," Void said. "It means you don't need to learn the language actively, Great One. You just need to pay attention when I'm engaging with others. The translation happens automatically through me."

  "Though you'd still need to stay silent. If you tried to speak, you'd expose that you don't actually know the language. The understanding is passive—reception only, not production."

  "That's fine. I'm supposed to be silent anyway. This just means I'll know what's actually being said instead of being completely lost."

  "Assuming she pays attention long enough. Host, you're too lazy for sustained focus. You'll get distracted after five minutes."

  "Maybe I got smarter when I came here. Intelligence boost. Memory enhancement. Wonders happen."

  "I'll believe it when I see it."

  "Challenge accepted. We'll walk around today. I'll focus on conversations. See if patterns stick."

  Void took another bite of food, using the action to cover his reaction. Out loud, to any observer, he was just a young noble eating breakfast while his battlemaid stood watch.

  In reality, through their soul connection, the three of them were having an entirely separate conversation.

  "Speaking of which," Spy continued, "Void, you keep calling her 'Great One' in our conversations. What would people think if they somehow overheard that telepathically or you slipped up and said it aloud?"

  Void paused mid-chew. "That... would be problematic, Honored Spy."

  "How problematic?"

  "'Great One,' 'Dark One,' 'Eternal One'—these are titles associated with cults. Devil worshipers. Forbidden practices. Dark religions that the churches hunt and burn. If anyone heard me using such a title, they'd assume we're part of some demonic cult. The Inquisition would investigate. The authorities would get involved. We'd face immediate, serious problems."

  "Then use 'Mistress' instead. When thinking about her, when talking to her mentally, just use Mistress. At worst, people think it's some fetish play between you two. At best, it's just formal servant language. Much safer than cult titles."

  Void was quiet for a moment. "I... yes. That's practical. Mistress. I can do that."

  It felt wrong, calling his Great One by such a lesser title. But he understood the necessity. The logic.

  And, somewhere deep inside where he tried not to examine too closely, he didn't entirely hate it.

  "Besides," Spy added, "you seem to enjoy serving your 'Mistress' anyway. Helping her dress, carrying out her wishes, tending to her needs..."

  Void had no counter to that. Just embarrassed silence and continued eating.

  "I'm simply being professional, Honored Spy," Void managed weakly.

  "Sure you are. I can see everything the Host sees, Void. And I can definitely comment on what I'm observing. Your squirming is entertaining."

  "Spy, you're picking on him," Null observed.

  "It's one of my few joys."

  Void finished his plate and leaned back, looking significantly more recovered than yesterday. Color had returned to his face. His movements were steadier. The massive amounts of food and water were clearly helping.

  Before he could stand, Spy's voice came through their connection. "Wait. We need to talk about payment."

  "Payment?" Void asked.

  "The coins. We've been using Empire gold. If we keep doing that, won't it create a pattern? Give hints about where we're supposedly from?"

  "Ah," Void said, understanding the concern. "Actually, Honored Spy, it's not that simple. All high-value coins follow the same standard. The old Imperial standard from when the Empire ruled everything. Gold, silver, platinum—they're all made to specific weights and purity levels that every nation still maintains."

  "Local powers add their own designs to the coins—forge marks, national symbols, royal portraits, propaganda imagery. It shows ownership, circulates their message, demonstrates their authority. But the underlying specifications are universal. A gold coin from the Empire weighs exactly the same as one from the Kingdom or Republic. Same gold content, same worth. That's why international trade actually works."

  "So any gold coin is accepted anywhere?"

  "Exactly. The design might be different, but the value is standardized. It's been that way since the Empire's collapse—one of the few Imperial systems that everyone kept because it was too useful to abandon. Bronze and copper coins are different—each country, sometimes each city, has their own system. But precious metals follow the universal standard."

  Null processed this. "So we can use any gold coins we have without it mattering?"

  "Correct, Mistress. The caravan you acquired from had quite a variety. Kingdom coins since they originated there. Empire coins since that's where they were heading. Some Republic currency. Church State pieces. Even a few from other continents—old Imperial colonies that still follow the weight standard."

  "We can mix different coins when paying. Anyone trying to track us by currency won't find a useful pattern."

  "Untraceable and cosmopolitan. I like it."

  "Though the foreign continent coins might draw attention," Void cautioned. "Locals here probably don't see those often. They might want to verify authenticity—weigh them, test the gold content magically. Not suspicious, just prudent when dealing with unfamiliar currency."

  Null thought about the coins in her item box. The variety they'd taken from the caravan. Then an idea formed.

  "What if we deliberately use the most exotic coin we have? Something that would take effort to trace but ultimately tells them nothing?"

  "You want to give them a false lead?"

  "I want to give them something to focus on if they're trying to figure us out. A coin unusual enough to be memorable, but that doesn't actually reveal anything useful about us."

  Void considered this, then smiled slightly. "That's clever, Mistress. Let me look through what you have—I can identify the different currencies and select the best option."

  Null opened her mental inventory and shared the view of her coins with Void through their bond. He studied the collection, his knowledge of currency and geography processing each piece.

  "Ah. This one would be perfect." He indicated a specific gold coin. "The Silvermoon Confederation. Eastern continent, across the great sea. Former Imperial colony that gained independence about five thousand years ago. They have a large elf population—when the Empire collapsed, many elves migrated there seeking autonomy. The coin is about fifteen years old based on the mint marks."

  "And if someone investigates?"

  "They'll conclude I might be from the Silvermoon Confederation. A plausible origin for an elf of my apparent status. Exotic enough to explain why I'm not in local records. Foreign enough to excuse any odd behavior as 'different customs.' And completely untraceable because we have no actual connection to that region."

  "Plus, if anyone even bothers investigating that deeply—which most won't—they'd need to send inquiries across the ocean. Months of correspondence. By the time they learned anything, we'd be long gone."

  "A perfect red herring," Spy said approvingly.

  "Exactly, Honored Spy. We use this coin here, let them report it, and whoever's watching gets a nice false trail to follow."

  "Shall we take a walk, my dear?" Void said aloud, standing from his chair. "I'd like to see more of this charming village. But first, let me settle our account."

  He approached the counter where Mira was organizing orders. Null followed at the proper distance, maintaining her battlemaid position.

  "The meals have been excellent," Void said warmly. "And we'll be staying for at least a week, as I mentioned. What do we owe for the extended lodging and meals?"

  Mira calculated quickly. "For the room and meals thus far, plus a week's advance... twenty silver, young master. Or two gold if you prefer."

  "Two gold it is." Void reached into his coin pouch—transferred from Null's item box earlier—and produced two gold coins. One standard Republic currency, familiar and unremarkable. The other, the Silvermoon Confederation piece.

  Mira took the coins, accepting the Republic one without issue. But when she examined the second, her expression shifted to confusion. She turned it over, studying the unfamiliar markings and imagery.

  "I... young master, this one is... I don't recognize this currency."

  "Silvermoon Confederation," Void explained casually. "From across the eastern sea."

  "I've never... let me get the Guild Master. He might know—"

  "It's gold," Void said patiently. "Standard Imperial weight. You can verify it."

  "I... yes, of course." Mira pulled out her scale and testing stone, clearly uncertain. She weighed the foreign coin carefully, touched it to the verification stone.

  The stone glowed green. Authentic gold. Proper weight.

  "It's real gold," she confirmed, still looking uncertain. "Just... very foreign. I've never seen currency from that far east before."

  "I've traveled extensively," Void said with a slight smile. "Is it acceptable?"

  Mira hesitated, then clearly decided that gold was gold and this noble had already proven generous. "Yes. Yes, of course. It's just unusual. Beautiful craftsmanship though." She examined the elvish imagery on the coin more closely. "Very exotic."

  "Keep the change as before. Your service has been impeccable."

  "Thank you, young master!" She tucked the coins away carefully, the exotic one probably destined to be shown to the Guild Master later. "Enjoy your walk!"

  Void nodded graciously and headed for the exit. Null followed, her expression unchanged, but internally amused.

  "Hook set," Spy observed. "She's definitely reporting that coin."

  "Let them wonder," Void replied. "Gives them something harmless to investigate."

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

  Outside, the village was fully awake. Morning business in full swing. Adventurers preparing for hunts. Merchants opening shops. The sounds and smells of civilization.

  Null took it all in, her dead-eyed stare tracking everything while her mind cataloged details.

  This was going to be interesting.