It turned out Nash was nearly illiterate. He could write his name, and sound out individual letters, but his reading speed was slow. And he kept mispronouncing words, even ones he clearly knew. Blake hated what he knew he had to do—teach phonics.

"I get it, spelling is a mess. It's not your fault that it's hard. But you still have to learn. Reading and writing are really important."

Nash nodded, looking over the book Blake reading out of. They were sat next to one another at a library table, reading a bestiary.

"See this? See how this word ends in 'ous'? That's really an 'us'. And this 'ch' over here? That's not a 'kuh, huh,' or a 'suh, huh,' it's a 'chuh'. Minus the 'uh'."

Nod.

"And this word with the 'e' at the end. You don't pronounce the e. It just changes the previous vowel."

"How?"

"It just does. Look, you already know the words. It's like a bad puzzle where you're guessing the rules, not trying to work it out."

"Uh..."

"I know it's hard, just... Accept that it's dumb, okay?"

Blake kept explaining pattern and exception one after another. Most of them went over Nash's head. But the next day, when Nash came back to the library with Blake, he had an easier time trying to read spellbooks. And the day after that, and then the day after the day after that, and so on.

A week passed, and Nash could read nearly the same material as Blake. He was very slow, but he could get through it without help, and he was starting to learn White Magic that his past self only dreamed of casting.

Riley was always nearby, but she sat alone and read in silence. Reading old stories for fun, it looked like, not studying.

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One night, The Pack sat down at the pub to relax. It was a nice night out, and the place was filled with a very peaceful ambiance. There was a female bard singing and playing music on a lute in the corner. She was a bit far away, so he couldn't see her clearly, but there was one thing he could make out. Her lute was kind of like a banjo, but longer, fretless—by the sound—and with enormous tuning pegs. The music she was playing sounded totally alien to him. Not the southern stuff, and not the appalachian stuff either. It was slow and deliberate, it always hit the weird notes, and it never wanted to truly let go of the tension it was building.

"Alright, guys, listen up. We're running out of money for real. Tomorrow, I won't be able to keep paying to station the carriage and feed the horse. I need to go do some monster hunting for money right now, before we run out, so we don't lose our stuff to auction. Don't worry. I've almost ranked up, we'll be able to afford supplies to head to the next country soon. But I've gotta do this now. Nash, you're still too wet behind the ears to face up against monsters. Sorry to say it, but it's true. You'll have to stay here. Riley, you can do whatever you want."

"Take me with you," Riley said.

She was worried he might get himself injured if he was out there all alone. If he was, who knows what would happen to her, even if she hid somewhere in the guild. Nash could perhaps explain his situation to the Guild and get them to adopt him as a Guild-owned scout, but her? She was a wolfling. There weren't many people around who would be willing to shelter her out of kindness. At least not without ulterior motives.

"Got it. Nash, you'll be okay on your own, right? We'll be right outside town hunting imps and fang toadstools."

"Yeah... Sure. I'll be okay. The library seems safe enough."

"I'll stop in and let them know before I leave in the morning."

So it was decided.

The bard packed up and left, leaving the pub to its own natural energy. Not a successful night, huh? Blake thought.

As the hour went on, everyone's voices picked up, all over the bar, and it got a bit chaotic. At the end of it all, Blake was passed out, and Riley had to carry him home again. Nash was just glad they didn't get into any trouble after Blake got wasted. He didn't like being sat so close to drunk people.

The next day, they went hunting. It went well. They cleared out a mob of imps without issue, and then got to a troop of fang toadstools.

"Get my back!" Blake shouted.

"Got it!"

Riley slid behind him and covered for him. He didn't want anything in his blind spot.

For Blake, it was simple. Kick a fang toadstool, make it fall over. Then cut its cap off. Flip the cap inside-out and behold a bunch of normal edible mushrooms, growing around the rim of the cap, upside down. Scrape them off into a bag later, once the troop was all dead, and he'd be done.

Riley picked any monsters that came her way up and tossed it back in front of Blake. She was strong and fast enough to do it without worry. They didn't even have a chance to bite.

This was the same deal as with the imps a couple hours ago. At this rate, they'd clear two whole extermination jobs in a single day, giving them enough to afford staying in Bright Hill for another week. And another few nights at the pub, too. So, when they got back into town, that was the first thing they went to do. Get paid, get drunk.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Nash is still here, right?" Blake asked the clerk.

"Yes. He's studying as diligently as ever," the clerk said.

"Good. Let him know we'll be back to pick him up at night."

"Oh, are you two headed somewhere?"

"Yep, out to drink."

Blake and Riley left for the pub.

Blake drank too much again, forgetting how weak he is to this world's brews, and nearly got into a fight. Riley did her best to keep him from lashing out, and she succeeded, but it was a sorry sight to behold.

It was quite sad, hearing that bard's oh-so-sorrowful song in the sorry state he was in. The bard left early. He hoped he didn't have anything to do with it.

He was too far gone to keep track of time. Riley ended up carrying him home in the darkest hours of the night. She hardly had the energy left to toss him into bed and pass out herself, but she managed it.

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"Uuugggh..."

Blake's headache was killing him. He hadn't had it this bad since the first night he overdid it, back in White Oasis.

"Why do I do this to myself. Fuuucck."

It hurt like hell.

He had to get vertical. Staying in bed would just make him feel sick and depressed.

"Ugh... Er... Riley?"

Riley was sleeping with her head and arms on his bed, kneeling on the floor. What an uncomfortable position to fall asleep in.

He shook her awake.

"What happened last night?"

She rubbed her eyes and yawned.

"You got wrecked. I carried you home."

"What time is it?"

"It's two past noon."

"Seriously! Already?"

She nodded.

"Ugh. I gotta go to the guild and check up on Nash. He must've left without me."

"Okay."

She yawned again and changed from her pajamas into her city clothes. Blake was already fully dressed, having been put to sleep in his clothes.

At the guild, Blake was still holding his head. What a mess, he thought to himself.

"Hey, is Nash here?"

"Nash? I didn't see him, but he might've slipped into the library. Go take a look."

"Got it."

So they did.

They looked for Nash in the usual spot, but he wasn't there.

"That's weird... Maybe he's looking at books?"

They combed up and down the various aisles looking for him, but his figure was nowhere to be found.

"What the heck... Hey, librarian!" Blake said.

"Yes! Is there a problem, Blake?"

"Did you see a short kid with a scarf come in here?"

"Oh, the one you've been bringing recently? No, not today."

"What the heck... When's the last time you saw him?"

"Hmm... When he left last night. Alone, I think."

He turned to Riley.

"Was he at the inn when you dragged me home last night?"

Riley shook her head.

"It was four after midnight. I fell asleep as soon as I changed into my pajamas. I thought he was in his bed, but... I didn't double check."

"Damn it!"

Either Nash ran away or he got kidnapped. Those were the most likely scenarios. This was a fantasy world, after all. The base crime rate was bound to be much, much higher than it was in the well-developed, post-industrial world Blake came from.

"It's probably a kidnapping. He said he got hunted down by those crooks before, it probably happened again. I should've brought him with us, damn it...! I underestimated the risk!"

They combed the city, asking everyone they could find if they'd seen him. The Pack been around for a week already, and spent most of their time at the guild, so enough people were familiar with their faces for it to be worth a shot. But nobody knew a thing. Not even a single lead.

"Damn it... Nash...!"

He was running through the streets at this point, Riley on his back. She could see better up there.

Did they take him and skip town already? Blake thought. Surely there had to be evidence somewhere. Like a stray carriage, or unrelated crime reports. But no matter what he asked of anyone, or where he looked, he couldn't find anything at all. Just a big fat 'who knows'.

They returned to the inn. They were exhausted.

"Damn it... What am I going to do? I can't even take care of a single god damn kid! I'll never get anything right!"

He was furious with himself.

On the surface, Riley was frightened. But deep down, she was relieved that he really did care this much about the people he was taking care of, despite the circumstances. So despite the fear, a tiny smile managed to slip onto her face.

Blake pounded his hand on his knee. Just once.

"We're going back out tomorrow. We're gonna go look again. Slower, more careful. After all we did today, word's gonna get around we're looking for him. Maybe something will turn up."

"Yes, master!" Riley said.

Blake turned to her.

"Don't call me that! You're not a slave!"

A blank, half-smiling state filled her face.

"—Right! Of course!" she said.

"I don't know if this contract magic shit is doing weird shit to you or not, but if it is, fight it. The moment you give in, your life is over. This is not a 'right, of course' thing. This is serious."

Riley's expression darkened. Yes. Naturally. Things were different now. She had a lot of unlearning to do.

"Yes. I understand," she said.

The next day, they went back out as planned and kept looking. Slowly, carefully. But nothing turned up.

When they returned to their room at the inn that night, something was off. Aside from what they had on their bodies, like their clothes and Blake's sword, their stuff was gone. The staff hadn't warned them of anything, and it was still their room, so it was clear they didn't know anything happened.

Blake groaned.

"This has got to have something to do with Nash," he said.

There was a note on his bed. He read it.

"Come to the Lady Jeanna Memorial Clocktower at two after midnight, alone or with your slave, if you value what is lost. Come prepared to negotiate."

"They're serious. They did all this without leaving a trace," Riley said.

"Seriously? Is this what we're going to be doing now?"

Riley looked over Blake's shoulder. "It's a girl's handwriting," she said.

"I thought thugs like this used girls, not hired them."

"Thugs wouldn't manage this so cleanly."

"So you think it's just a girl."

"Not just, just that a girl has to be behind it. Or a major player."

"Do we have to negotiate? What does she want from us?"

Blake looked around again. Their stuff was still gone.

"Fuck. If it was money, she's already got it—she doesn't want that, she wants Nash."

"That's not all. It has to be sensitive in some way. Time sensitive, personally sensitive, politically sensitive... If it wasn't, she'd bring him to Queensland."

"Crap. We have no idea what we're going up against. We have to be really careful about this. We don't have our stuff or most of our money. We can't go out and hire help or suit up like crazy. We can't call for help, you have to keep a low profile. We—"

"Blake. You're about to go thinking in circles. Those aren't the big problems right now. You've only ever gone up against thugs. You need to practice against someone closer to your own level."

"You're right. I'm being stupid. Are you offering?"

"I'm... Yeah. I'll be your sparring partner. We have the time."

----------------------------------------

It was two past midnight, as seen on the face of the Lady Jeanna Memorial Clocktower, hands ticking. Blake and Riley found their way inside and up to the mechanical room. It connected directly to the clock face, which was of frosted glass, not entirely opaque, so the light shining on the face shone inside, too. Positioned against it all, sitting on the scaffolding that held all the clock's mechanics in place, there sat a silhouette holding a broomstick, with a wide-brimmed bent cone hat. Blake squinted. A witch.

"So you've come, brute," the witch spoke.