System Lost: My Own Best Friend

"No! Not that one—the other one you stupid worm!"

Nipper shrinks back as I flick him, looking despondent over his repeated failures.

"I'm sorry," I sigh. "You're not stupid. You're a very clever worm just...not...smart..."

"That means stupid," Evelyn points out with smug satisfaction. She loves watching me fuck up.

"You don't get to comment until you can add numbers with more than one digit," I fire back.

Draga chuckles and shakes his head as he wipes away a few spots of blood from his arm. He's impressively resilient, but a full force bite from Nipper still breaks his skin. "Don't let yourself get too frustrated. This usually takes days or weeks depending on how agreeable the animal is."

I cross my arms and pout. I don't understand—it barely took any training at all to keep Nipper out of the candles and stop trying to bite us. Is it because he was still a baby back then? Some sort of imprinting? Given the total lack of a mommy worm lurking around the nest we found him in, that doesn't seem likely.

Of course, I'm pretty sure the real problem is me. Controlling multiple flames at once is really hard and keeping the "signal" flame consistent is a struggle.

"Are you sure this is okay?" I ask, glancing at Draga's arm. He hasn't complained, but he's the one getting bitten repeatedly for the sake of this experiment.

He lifts his arm and grins. "Just a few scrapes," he reassures me. "I barely even need to use my skills."

If he says so. I take a breath and create another pair of tiny candle-like flames. I'm getting used to it now, and it only takes a bit of focus to bring each of their temperatures down to a harmless level. That's the easy part, though.

Nipper perks up as soon as he senses the magic. Credit where it's due, the little trooper seems to have cottoned on to the fact that we're trying to teach it something—he just can't seem to figure out what. That or he just really likes snacking on my magic.

Draga gamely stretches his arm out within biting range, and I position the flames—one close to his wrist and the other further up towards the meaty bit of the forearm. Right now the flames are the same, and Nipper has learned not to bite yet. You'd think that's a success, but it's not enough to cue him to just attack indiscriminately—it needs to be focused.

He rears back, knowing what's coming. I stall for a few seconds, testing his patience and varying the timing so that he doesn't get too accustomed. It's important for him to be able to recognize the signal regardless of other factors.

When I'm ready, I snap my fingers, and the flame near Draga's elbow suddenly grows brighter. Snapping isn't strictly necessary, but tying complex bits of magical finesse to a physical act is a helpful mnemonic trick. Talla says it's a bad habit, but I've seen her pointing and waving when she does her magic, so whatever.

Nipper launches forward like a spring uncoiling. His lamprey-like maw latches onto Draga's arm, digging his teeth worryingly deep into the flesh. To my great relief, he even hits the right spot. We've gotten this far before, and it's not consistent yet, but it's promising.

Without warning, I snap my fingers again, switching the dummy flame with the signal flame. Nipper backs off for a moment, confused, blood dripping from his sharp teeth. For just a second, it looks like he's going to go right back to what he was doing again—a failure—but instead, he switches targets.

Draga's face doesn't even budge as Nipper sinks his teeth into his arm a second time in as many seconds. What a pain tolerance. Come to think of it, he was totally straight-faced with one of his own bones sticking out of his skin. I wonder what kind of crazy shit he's been through to get like that.

Final test—I wave my hand and both flames disappear. I could get Nipper to stop by just offering another treat, but I need him to stop on his own then reward him. This is the part that Nipper has never managed to pass. What we've stayed up so late trying to master that the first rays of sunlight are already peeking up over the distant cliffs to the east—or "ringwise" as it's called in Fa'aun.

It takes Nipper half a second to realize that something has changed, and I hold my breath waiting for the moment of truth. His instinct is to keep biting—to latch on and refuse to let go until either his prey stops moving or his life is in danger. Of course his prey is gone, but that doesn't track with the flesh and blood between his teeth.

It's a hard battle. Instinct fights with learned response in a confusing tug of war that Nipper doesn't have the higher reasoning abilities to comprehend. But finally, the confused and disappointed worm slowly disengages from Draga and slithers back, stopping just a step out of my reach as he hesitantly awaits punishment.

But none is coming. He did it! He finally did it!

I conjure up another harmless flame, packing it with as much extra magic as I can without causing it to grow too large or hot, and offer it up to the worm-snake.

"Good boy Nipper!" I coo enthusiastically. "You did it!"

Nipper's attitude immediately shifts, sensing either my elation or the treat he's being offered. Possibly both. He slithers in a happy figure eight, enjoying his treat while I shower him with pets and affection.

"Who's a good little killing machine?" I whisper gleefully. "It's you, isn't it? Yes you are!"

Draga clears his throat and chuckles, shaking out his arm—already healed again despite Nipper's venom and the severity of that last attack. "Congratulations. That's only one success, and it will take more practice to reinforce it, but it should be easier from this point."

I glance up at him and blush, feeling a bit bad for ignoring him in my celebrations. I honestly doubt I could have done this without him, and as icing on the cake, I've even gained levels.

[Level up!]

Tamer is now level 2.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

+2 Ego.

Only two, but that's more than the zero my own efforts netted me.

"Thanks," I mutter in Fa'aun.

Hesitating for a moment, I cycle between going for a hug, then a handshake, then just hold out a fist.

"Oh my gosh, Mags, just hug him," Allie huffs.

"Shut up!"

Draga looks down at my outstretched fist with a confused expression, then places his hand over it and smiles. "You're welcome. Raising an anomalous creature is no small task, but some of the best rangers I've ever known would die before their own companions. I wish you the best of luck."

Holy fuck, he's just holding my fist? This is somehow ten times more awkward than a handshake would have been. I squirm my way out of his grip and nod stiffly, scooping Nipper up and running away to get what little sleep I can before we have to leave.

I'll never admit it out loud, but Muscles is now officially my...fourth favorite Fa'aun. After Talla, Saban, and Evelyn. Of course, now that I think of it, that's still last out of everyone we know, not counting the ones we killed. Whatever, that's not the part that matters.

"So, you like him, huh?" Allie comments as I curl up in our futon to sleep.

"Everybody likes Draga," I argue. "He's very likable."

"Then perhaps you should reconsider letting him sacrifice himself for your sake," Evelyn interrupts.

"We're not letting him do anything," Vi responds. "He's a grown man capable of making his own decisions."

"And you are grown women," Eva says. "There is nothing stopping you from turning yourselves in and doing what's right of your own accord."

"Can we talk about this later?" I groan. "We've been up all night doing magic and I want to get some sleep."

"Easy for you to say when you're not the one that's going to be exhausted in front all day," Violet whines. "We should establish some kind of system for organizing our waking hours. It's not fair that one of us can unilaterally steal time from the others by staying up all night."

"Later!" I insist, rolling over and covering my ears in vain to tune out their bickering.

"Excuse me, but we weren't finished discussing the matter of Sir Draga," Eva continues, ignoring my protests.

I cover my face with a pillow and groan as Allie tries to join in to play the mediator, which just brings the other two down on her. Fuck my life.

* * *

The next few days pass by in a blur as we fall into a routine. Despite our ongoing efforts, we don't gain any levels, which Talla assures us is perfectly normal for being in a relatively safe environment where we can take our time to practice at our own leisure, rather than every last attribute point being a matter of life or death.

It's disappointing, but I try to measure my expectations going forward.

After over a week on the road, things start to change. The road, while still little more than roughly packed dirt, is noticeably smoother, and the terrain around the river gives way from dense overgrowth to more managed land, including fields of what look like they might be food crops. Also, there's people!

Most of the Fa'aun we pass on the road are on foot and quick to clear the road as we approach. They dress more or less the same as the villagers we encountered before—the men go topless, relying on their fur to protect them from the sun, while women wear loose cloaks and shawls. Both favor the same sashes and skirts for their legs, and only the elderly go out of their way to get full coverage from flowing robes—perhaps to compensate for thinner fur.

A few are more dressed up, with slightly brighter colors or small bits of accessory, though none of them wear anything as colorful or coordinated as Talla and I. In fact, the more we see of other people on the road, the more self-conscious I get about the fact that I'm wearing Kiera's clothes. Talla assured me that she could just tell people that they're hers, but we still stand out.

Case in point, the people we pass almost always duck their heads or bow as we go by. Even—no, especially the ones that are better dressed. It's hard to put a finger on it, but some of the poor folk look like they're only doing it out of habit or obligation.

Also, Draga started riding with us despite his earlier misgivings.

"It's considered bad form to show off high tier skills in public," he explains. "It would draw too much attention."

"As opposed to the expensive magical vehicle zooming past faster than a horse?" I ask.

And it is faster than the "horses" in this world. We actually got to see a few in action. They're surprisingly quick for how dopey they look, but not as fast as a "real" horse at full gallop. Though apparently they can be pushed to go much faster.

"Well, I think drawing attention was Kiera's intention," Talla sighs. "Showing off isn't seen as rude for nobles—in fact, it's sort of expected."

"So it's only bad when the lower classes do it," Violet drawls. "Go figure. Can't have the poors distracting people from how rich and powerful the nobility is."

Talla winces. "I wish I could say you were wrong, but that's more or less it. Draga could run all he wanted if we didn't have the vehicle. It's less about using high tier skills and more about upstaging nobility."

Oof. Well, Draga doesn't seem particularly bothered by it, and it's nice being able to chat with him on the road.

"Is tier five considered high?" I ask.

It doesn't seem that high, but I haven't got much to compare it to.

"It depends," Draga hedges. "Rangers tend to level up pretty fast, but also die young. Nobles like Talla also spend more time improving the star-grade of their class, and end up lower tier for their age. I'd say most working-age people end up stalling somewhere between tier seven and eight, but really driven folk can get as high as ten."

"Reyna was the highest tier person I've ever met in the same age group," Talla adds. "I think that's why Kiera agreed to let him marry into the family."

"You don't think love had anything to do with it?" I ask.

I'm about to comment that she looked devastated by his death, but think better of it. I'd rather not think about that day, and that would be horribly inappropriate.

"No doubt it did," Talla agrees, "but in our clan, that's not nearly enough reason. Reyna's talent gave him enough prestige that the Gaa family saw fit to elevate him from the Foren clan."

Sounds awful, but I'm trying to reserve judgment.

"So are we close to the city yet?" I ask instead.

"No," Talla replies. "The empire is big, and we're returning from the very edge of it. Even with the alchemical carriage, it'll be another week or so."

Dang, that's about as much time on the road as we spent in the cave. Well, this is much nicer at least.

"We will be staying in town, however," Draga adds. "Camping this close to the regular settlements makes us look like vagrants. Fine for me—I used to have the class, even—but unacceptable for a lady."

Talla huffs. "We're running low on supplies after giving half of them away, and we'd cause trouble with the local farmers and hunters if we tried to forage around here. You'd be staying in town even without me."

Draga chuckles. "Fair enough. How does that sound, Miss Allie? You'll get to sleep in an actual bed for once."

"Really?!" I exclaim, sitting up in excitement. "How soon can we get there? Can this thing go faster? Talla, hurry it up, this is life or death!"

A bed! An actual bed! Not a stone floor, not a pile of straw, not a cot or a bedroll or a futon—an actual, honest to goodness bed!

I can't wait.