Chapter 50: I Can’t Read
I flew west back to Sedol.
My agreement with Rody was complete. All that remained was to receive the reward once Rody returned.
Rody’s party had still been deciding whether to continue east or turn back. I had permission to return ahead.
I didn’t see the runaway packhorse from above and didn’t enter the forest to search. Two men were already looking.
After the bridge and rocky terrain, Sedol appeared. I landed outside town, rested my wings—I still needed strength to return to Rue—and walked to the entrance.
A familiar guard asked why the cart wasn’t with me.
“…Still east. My work ended there.”
The man understood and allowed me in with the usual warning about horses.
Rody had not yet returned, so I waited at the cargo yard.
People constantly shifted goods: sacks moved from packhorses to carts, crates were counted, and someone wrote on a board.
On earlier visits, I had noticed only the quantity of goods. Now I noticed how often people checked writing to know who owned cargo, how much existed, and where it went.
A stranger approached with a long wooden tablet.
“I heard you guarded a cart. Will you take mine?”
He held up the tablet.
“I wrote the destination, cargo, and payment.”
Rows of small characters covered it.
I stared.
I understood nothing.
“…What?”
“The request.”
“…Where?”
“It’s all written here—”
The man stopped.
“…I can’t read letters.”
“You can talk.”
“…Talking and reading are different.”
“Right…I suppose.”
He explained orally. His cargo was going farther east than I had ever scouted. One landmark was unknown to me.
“Follow the highway,” the man said.
“…I’ve never gone there.”
The man shortened the request to the known area, but I declined for today.
“…Already worked. Need return to Rue.”
The man accepted that they could discuss it another time.
“Writing would make this quicker,” he remarked. “The location, cargo, and reward remain recorded.”
I had assumed speaking would solve human communication. Apparently not. If I took jobs, being unable to verify written terms was inconvenient.
Then Rody arrived with the cart and both guards.
He had decided to return rather than continue into unknown danger. The cargo wasn’t so urgent that risking the entire cart made sense.
The runaway packhorse had been found just off the road, its cargo mostly unharmed.
Rody produced a wrapped bundle of dried meat.
“The promised payment.”
“…All this?”
“Yes.”
He offered me one strip to taste.
“Don’t eat my fingers.”
“…I won’t.”
I carefully took only the meat. It was tough and strongly salty.
“…Salty. Good.”
“Then I chose the right reward.”
This was the first thing I had received as payment for work. It felt different from a meal shared by Rue.
The tablet-bearing man told Rody that I couldn’t read.
Rody had never thought to show me writing before. The man argued that written terms prevented disputes.
“Do you want to learn?” Rody asked.
“…Don’t know yet. But reading seems useful.”
Another merchant tried to request an escort.
“…No more work today,” I said immediately.
The man hadn’t even stated the task.
“Today, no.”
“Tomorrow?”
“…Don’t know.”
“When will you return?”
“…Don’t know that either.”
Rody laughed.
“Give up. He hasn’t become Sedol’s hired guard.”
Only one completed escort had already spread word farther than I had expected.
“…Will this keep happening?” I asked Rody.
“As long as people think you’re useful, some will ask.”
“…Can’t do all.”
“You don’t need to.”
The problem wasn’t refusing. It was understanding who wanted what and how far my responsibility extended.
Then the yard grew noisy.
A sweat-soaked horse arrived from the east with an exhausted rider.
“This message is for the manor and Sedol,” the rider said. “Horned gray magical beasts are increasing not only on the eastern highway but on roads farther beyond. There are attacks in more than one place.”
The mood changed.
“And word has spread east that this dragon acted on the highway.”
“Me?”
The rider finally noticed me and stared at my size.
“Continue,” Rody ordered.
The warning didn’t close the roads—this rider lacked authority—but urged caution for eastern cargo.
People immediately argued about shipments and whether to await the manor.
I understood that the problem extended beyond the area I had flown over. Guarding one cart wouldn’t end it.
The man with the tablet added something to his writing.
I couldn’t read it or verify what it said.
“…Rody. Who can teach letters?”
“Someone in Rue would be faster.”
I realized I didn’t know which villagers could read.
“…I don’t know that either.”
“Then start there.”
Rody raised the meat bundle.
“You’re going home?”
“…Yes.”
I would tell the chief about both the east and writing. I wouldn’t fly east again today merely because I could.
Rody looped rope around the bundle so I could carry it in my mouth. He carried it through town, then handed it over beyond the buildings.
“Come again.”
“…For work?”
“For something else if you like.”
I remembered Lina’s request.
“…I still haven’t seen the food.”
“What’s that about?”
“…My friend told me to.”
“Then look around before accepting work next time.”
“…I will.”
I spread my wings.
More people wanted to hire me. Something was still happening in the east. And I couldn’t read what humans wrote on their boards.
When I returned to Rue, I had one more question.
Could anyone teach me letters?
Keeping the dried meat steady, I flew home.