“Gambling at a tavern, inn, or a similarly unregulated establishment should only be attempted if you possess a Skill to help bend the odds in your favor. Paradoxically, cheating is often considered fair game, unless of course you get caught. This is, perhaps, one of the more jovial foundational examples of the societal flaws explored by some System-theorists. They posit that, without a corresponding Skill, even games of leisure present an impossible barrier of entry.”

~Unknown

“So, what do you want to do?” I asked Fudge as we settled into the main room of the house. He answered by sprawling out on the ground and panting, temporarily exhausted from his - as my fiancé used to refer to them - ‘zoomies’. A small pool of drool began to form beneath his lolling tongue while I smiled softly at the bittersweet memory.

“Resting is not quite what I had in mind,” I eventually replied. Normally, I would be content to spend some time simply enjoying Fudge’s company. The two adults cryptically discussing their plans for my future necessitated a more engaging activity, lest I drive myself insane. Thoughts of Tulos and Lionel had me subconsciously schooling my mouth back into whistling-shape. Something about Lionel’s Skill - for it was surely the work of a Skill - kept niggling my mind, urging me to-

Wait… this… A sudden flare of mana from Perseverance and Recovery made me conscious of how alien the sensation actually was. Before that moment, it was like I was content to let the foreign Skill work on me unobstructed, even as I acknowledged its presence. I mentally strained, summoning a steady wave of power from my Skills to erode the compulsion, an untested feat that almost drained my mana reserves. Thankfully, it worked.

Did Lionel do that on purpose? That was probably the wrong question. I would have been better served questioning what purpose it could have served. Had Lionel actually intended to leave me as a whistling vegetable for a few hours while he conversed with Tulos? That seemed… grossly irresponsible. The problem was that I couldn’t completely dismiss it as a possibility.

Tulos vouched for Lionel, so for the sake of argument I gave him the benefit of the doubt. In that case, why momentarily distract me with thoughts of whistling that my Skills could-

My Skills! I summoned a pair of System windows.

Perseverance Level 10/20

Current proficiency points: 56/1000

Recovery Level 1/10

Current proficiency points: 93/100

Overwhelming whatever Lionel’s Skill had done to me was enough to score a huge windfall of proficiency points, which immediately improved my mood.

It was an obstacle distracting me from worrying about my future, which brought Perseverance into play. It was also an irregularity, something that I had the capacity to, well, recover from, hence Recovery. It might not have been a completely accurate explanation, but I couldn’t think of a better one.

Since I acquired the Skill, Recovery had been gaining a steady stream of early proficiency points. The ambient processes involved in simply existing were enough for the Level 1 Skill to benefit. Points gained from such an easily accessible pond would eventually cease being even remotely lucrative, but I enjoyed them while they lasted.

Adapting to my new Skills and capabilities had given me an early burst in points for the now-Tier-1 Perseverance, but my progress there had already slowed to a crawl. The demands of the Skill since Advancement had grown accordingly. I tried not to think of the absurd situations I’d need to put myself in to progress the Skill at higher levels.

I wonder if he can make that compulsion harder to snap out of. Mental-fuckery of that caliber was what I suspected Manipulation [Social] might have been eventually capable of when I saw it was a Core Skill option. Evidently, one of Lionel’s Skills could do something similar, or perhaps it was yet another application of Spellsong. I could see the value in working towards a Skill Augmentation to improve my odds against similarly sinister Skill effects in the future.

Though I cannot think of a delicate way to ask him to help me out without coming across as creepy… I suspected I would have to shelve the idea, at least for a time.

“Come on, Fudge,” I called as I sprung to my feet. “If we are going to have the day to ourselves, then we may as well work on our Skills.” Having picked up on my own renewed excitement, Fudge scrambled to stand, his oversized paws almost sending him tumbling from an overabundance of enthusiasm. It was like watching an out-of-shape older relative try ice skating for the first time.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Together, we snuck out the back of the house and made our way to the kennel. I needed to borrow some of Tina’s equipment.

***

Raiding Tina’s well-organized supply shed left me armed with off-cuts of mutton jerky and an irregular sheet of sheepskin leather. A chorus of pleased whines greeted our arrival at the kennel, but Fudge and I didn’t linger. Without Tina’s presence I wasn’t confident in keeping the other dogs at bay while I worked with Fudge.

I suspected that the Tamer Bond would eventually allow Fudge and I to communicate without traditional commands, at least to an extent. Until then, it was important that he understood the basics and it was my responsibility to teach him. We didn’t have to start from scratch. Tina made a point of Teaching new litters the classics like ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ early on, just to make our lives easier. I was present for those early lessons, and even got to feed treats to the participants, but it was Tina’s Skills that did all of the heavy lifting.

Taming as a Skill focused on developing the magical bond between a Tamer and their companion. Tina’s choice to expand her Build into caring for and training multiple dogs built upon that foundation, but - according to her - the essence of her Core Skill was all about her connection with Vigil. That is to say, working with Fudge like a regular dog was beneficial to my Skill primarily because the experience of working together would strengthen our understanding of one another, which would in turn strengthen the bond.

That’s the theory, anyway, I thought to myself as I wandered over to an open patch of grass far enough away from the kennel to ensure a measure of privacy. We were closer to the village path than we were to the treeline, which offered some additional peace of mind. I had to regularly swat at passing flies in what was inevitably a losing war of attrition. Fudge decided to help by occasionally snapping at the passing insects, but his efforts were about as effective as my own.

“Okay Fudge, here is the situation,” I said after instructing the dog in question to sit. The words were more for my benefit than his. Besides, I already spoke to my Skills; by all accounts, speaking to my magically-bonded dog was less weird than that.

“If you are going to be my guard dog, we have to work on your prey drive,” I lectured. Fudge tilted his head in confusion while a pleasant breeze played amongst his charcoal fur. Looking at the goofy bundle of love that was Fudge, I felt my resolve waver. Teaching him how to be a more effective killer would be…

Necessary, I reminded myself. My old german shepherd was the most gentle dog I had ever owned, but she was a product of our circumstances. I could spoil her with toys, trips to the dog park and occasionally slip her a french fry when no one was looking. Living in such a peaceful world was not a luxury Fudge and I had.

I mean, fuck, I’m back on the food chain here. The whole point of choosing the Taming Skill was to turn Fudge into someone who could help me face the dangers of the world. He was to be my friend, but also my protector, and denying him the tools to do so wouldn’t help either of us. Paradoxically, clinging too tightly to my old-world values could prevent me from ever getting back there.

Again, thoughts of home momentarily derailed my efforts. It had been a while since I let myself get distracted by them so much in one day. I felt Perseverance pulse in an effort to drive away my doubts. It worked, eventually, but something felt off. My mind lingered on the sensation of my Core Skill, unable to figure out what left me feeling off balance.

That’s different, I mused before I returned my attention to Fudge. No sense in wasting too much time on the problem.

“Since you are still young, that means we start by getting you used to biting down on things and building strong jaw muscles.” I mimed chomping at the air, careful not to accidentally swallow a fly.

“Fortunately, we get to practice this by playing a game.” I held up the sheet of leather and rolled it into a rough tube. Tina didn’t refer to the activity as ‘tug-of-war’, but it was. It wasn’t innovative or magical, but simple solutions were usually the most effective, in my experience.

***

I hit the ground and groaned at the impact. Life-sustaining oxygen escaped my lungs with a whoosh. Fudge celebrated yet another victory by settling down to gnaw at his prize. We’d been playing for well over an hour and I failed to properly consider how outmatched I was.

I knew I wouldn’t have an easy time of it, but I’d hoped that digging my feet in and calling upon Perseverance would help me stand up to the oversized puppy. Technically, it did help, but a well timed thrash of Fudge’s head would gyrate my shoulders and send me sprawling almost every time. I was outweighed and outmatched.

At least Recovery is also getting a chance to shine, I thought dryly. I felt the Skill come into play as I dug my fingers into the grass, pushed myself to my knees, and tried to catch my breath. I tried timing my breaths to the dull thumping of Fudge’s wagging tail, treating it like a metronome.

Tulos and Lionel hadn’t come to fetch us yet, so presumably they were still talking about me. Either that or they were just catching up and were content to do so without a kid there to interject with questions every other sentence. By convincing myself that thoughts of their conversation counted as a distraction, I regularly called upon Perseverance to help keep me focused on Fudge when my mind tried to wander.

Speaking of which… I sprung back to my feet and rewarded Fudge with a piece of jerky when he promptly surrendered the leather back to me.

“Okay Fudge, round… honestly, I’ve lost count.” I found myself grinning, even as my muscles ached. Every proficiency point mattered, and there was no time like the present.