James woke up fresh. The Silver Room had done its job. He stretched, rolled his shoulders, and dropped straight into the Commander’s Space, time set to normal.

  The place wasn’t quite as he’d left it.

  Same space. Same soft light. But someone had definitely been busy.

  A massive dartboard loomed in the distance, easily a kilometre away. Closer, maybe ten meters, stood a full archery range. And beside that sprawled a playground the size of a football stadium, parts of it suspiciously borrowed from .

  James groaned.

  “Right. The beer. The couches. The epiphany.”

  Squire chittered and guided James around the playground to where a new card was located.

  Card: Squire’s Retreat

  ( Accessible sanctuary for bonded creatures. Growth and rest effects apply.)

  It wasn’t flat like the others.

  The picture window had depth, the art swollen outward, warped by space. A narrow platform jutted from the lower edge, with stairs curling down to either side, vanishing into the card itself. The text box beneath remained untouched, glowing with faintly editable rules, still a card even if the top half now doubled as a doorway.

  James stepped onto the platform. It was warm under his boots, unnervingly so, like stone left in the sun. The stairs curled down in neat arcs, drawing him inward, into the card, into the art, into something impossible.

  He noticed that there were doors, but they opened inward and stayed out of view until he stepped onto the platform.

  The air changed the moment he passed the threshold. Cooler. Greener.

  A forest stretched before him. Not the one where he’d found her, but close. Softer. Dreamlike.

  Something rustled.

  A blur of motion darted between the trees, claws skittering, tail streaming behind like a banner.

  Then Squire launched from a low branch, scrambled across the platform, and nearly took out his boot.

  She squeaked, circled twice in frantic excitement, then bolted off again, pausing just long enough to glance back. Waiting.

  James laughed.

  “Alright, tour guide. Show me around.”

  He followed her into the trees.

  The forest stretched wider than it should have, yet everything stayed close. Approachable.

  Like the space bent itself to fit around him.

  Squire darted from one feature to the next, dragging him along her personal highlight reel:

  ? a clear brook where the water shimmered like glass,

  ? a patch of moss she rolled through until her fur stood on end,

  ? a hollow log that clearly doubled as bed and ambush post.

  Every time he slowed, she came back to tug at his bootlaces or scramble up his leg, insistent.

  Then she bolted for the playground.

  Up the rope wall. Across swinging logs. Beam to beam, tail streaming behind her, fast, fluid, precise, almost mesmerizing.

  Natural instincts shining through.

  No hidden doors. No lurking threats. Just a world built for her.

  And that was enough.

  James stood at the center, watching her crush the course for the fifth time, tail high like a banner.

  He felt it in his chest, the bond wasn’t just stronger. It was thriving.

  “Yeah,” he said softly. “This’ll work.”

  Bond Progress Increased – Squire: +10%

  Squire bounded back, climbing to his shoulder in one smooth motion. Her claws pricked, just enough to remind him she was heavier now. Wiry muscle wrapped in fur, solid where she’d once been slight.

  She flicked her tail across his nose.

  James sneezed. Loudly.

  “Aachoo. Thanks for that,” he muttered, rubbing his face.

  Squire squeaked in absolute victory.

  He chuckled, giving her a scratch behind one ear.

  “Alright. Let’s see if we can get you a friend.”

  They left the Silver Room together, heading down through the guild’s main hall.

  The morning crowd was already thick, adventurers clustered around the quest board, merchants haggling over gear, attendants weaving between tables with trays of bread and tea.

  James followed the scent of hay and musk through a side hall until it opened into a rear courtyard.

  This was where the guild kept its beasts.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Exotic, just not here.

  Draft lizards with saddles like siege engines.

  Pack goats that stamped the ground like they owned it.

  Oversized crows blinking with slow, lazy menace.

  A few younger handlers moved between pens with feed buckets, while an older overseer barked orders sharp enough to sting across the yard.

  Squire’s nose twitched nonstop, her head swiveling from pen to pen. She let out a curious chitter.

  James grinned.

  “Yeah, I know. You’re not the only one curious.”

  James leaned on the fence, watching handlers move between pens.

  Beasts shuffled, stamped, stretched wings or tails, each one radiating its own kind of energy.

  “Looking for a mount?” a young handler called, wiping her hands on a hay-dusted apron. “Or a partner?”

  “Partner,” James said.

  He adjusted Squire, who was now perched on his shoulder, eyeing the crows like she was doing the math on how hard it’d be to chase one.

  “Someone I can train with,” James said. “Maybe even bond with. If it works out.”

  The girl nodded, then pointed toward a cluster of smaller pens.

  “We keep the bond candidates over there. Nothing rare, not at your rep tier I’m guessing, but solid stock. Hardy.”

  James headed that way, Squire clinging tighter as they passed the lizards.

  Inside the pens, he found the options.

  A young boar, tusks barely formed, snout pressed to the ground like it was hunting roots.

  A hawk, wings clipped but eyes sharp, watching everything with restless intensity.

  A stocky hound with one ear chewed ragged, tail thumping weakly whenever a handler walked by.

  James crouched, elbows resting on his knees. “Well, Squire? Any opinions?”

  Squire chirped once. Then twice.

  Then hopped down onto the rail and stared directly at the hound.

  The dog lifted his head. Ears tilted. Eyes narrowed.

  Then, slowly and cautiously, his tail wagged again.

  James crouched lower, palm out, letting the hound lean in to sniff.

  His breath was warm. A little ragged, but steady.

  When he didn’t flinch, James made the call.

  “I’ll take him.”

  The overseer broke from the apprentices, braid swinging as she crossed the yard with a soldier’s stride.

  Authority radiated off her: posture straight, eyes sharp, no wasted motion.

  “He’s a good dog,” the overseer said, planting herself beside the pen. “Combat-trained, then left behind when he couldn’t keep up. The wounds went bad before we got to him, infection set in, and we cut away what we could. He won’t run a patrol line again, but give him a handler he trusts and a post to guard, and he’ll fight to the end.”

  She folded her arms. “He’ll walk, but not fast. Not yet.”

  James looked back at the hound.

  He was sitting now, watching him.

  Not cowering. Not snarling.

  Just... waiting.

  “If you’ve got a Silver Room, or a good healer,” the overseer continued, “he’ll recover. Might even thrive.”

  James nodded, already thinking of the one person he trusted with a healing skill.

  “But if you rush a bond in his state?

  You risk burning him out.

  That’s on you.”

  James wondered why they didn’t just put him in a Silver Room. He kept the thought to himself.

  It felt like the kind of thing he was to know already.

  James nodded slowly. “How much?”

  “Ten gold.”

  He blinked. “That low?”

  The overseer’s mouth tightened. “We were days from putting him down.

  He deserves better.

  This is me giving him that chance.”

  Squire made a sharp chitter, tail flicking against his shoulder like a shove.

  The hound’s tail answered, a soft thump against the straw.

  James reached into his pouch and pulled out a strip of bacon, one he usually saved for Squire.

  Squire squeaked in pure outrage as he bent and held it out to the hound.

  He sniffed once. Then wolfed it down, tail tapping harder now.

  “Relax,” James said, breaking off a smaller piece for Squire. “Fair’s fair.”

  System Prompt: Initiate Bond?

  Trait Activated – Wait—NO!

  James huffed a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. He’s a keeper anyway.”

  Companion Acquired – Charlie (Uncommon Hound).

  Status: Wounded. Battle-scared.

  The next thirty minutes passed in slow, steady work: heel, sit, stay, come.

  Nothing advanced. Just the basics.

  Fortunately, his Knowledge tab tracked every attempt, every adjustment, like a training log auto-scribed by the System itself.

  By the end, Charlie was trailing James in a cautious loop around the yard,

  Squire perched smugly on his shoulder like a tiny, judgmental foreman.

  James straightened and glanced at the overseer.

  His voice dropped, flat. Humor gone.

  “Who did this to him?”

  The woman’s jaw tightened.

  “His last handler. A Bronze who thought beasts were disposable.”

  She folded her arms. “He’s gone, stripped of badge and reputation. Not Guild anymore.”

  She spat to the side.

  “Name’s Marcus. You may see him around. Runs with a crew across the street.

  Her mouth twisted.

  “Darneath.”

  Charlie gave a low growl, as if the name alone had stirred something.

  James rubbed his neck gently until he settled, though his own jaw had already tightened.

  “Good to know,” he said quietly. “Thanks.”

  He scratched behind her ear one last time, fingertips brushing rough scars.

  Then he straightened, gave the leash a soft tug, and nodded toward the guild hall.

  “Alright, Charlie,” he murmured. “Let’s introduce you to the team.”

  Charlie pushed himself up, limping but steady, tail wagging in that same slow rhythm.

  Squire chittered from James’s shoulder like she already approved.

  Together, the three of them crossed the courtyard toward the main hall,

  the din of the guild rising to meet them.

  The commons was alive as ever: mugs slamming, dice rolling, the smell of spiced meat clinging to the air.

  Edward spotted them first, nudging Ken with a grin. Ja’ra’s thick brows lifted. Lae’ni leaned forward with a warm smile. Even Trish set her drink down.

  “A hound,” Edward said, clearly impressed. “Didn’t think you’d go for one so soon.”

  “He chose me,” James corrected, giving Charlie’s ear another scratch.

  Squire squeaked from his shoulder, very clearly saying don’t forget me, and that broke the tension.

  Laughter rippled around the table.

  Lae’ni reached out a hand. Charlie sniffed it, cautious, then leaned his head into the elf’s fingers.

  The druid’s eyes softened.

  “He will thrive with you,” she said. “That I can promise.”

  Trish cleared her throat, a scroll half-unrolled in her hand.

  “While you were at the kennels, I did some digging. Picked something light to start.”

  She smirked. “Don’t worry, I didn’t take it. Just… noted.”

  She pushed the parchment across the table.

  Quest: Guard Rotation – Dungeon Entrance (Night Watch)

  Screening dungeon parties for Dungeon time slots. 30 reputation, 12 gold per member.

  Edward’s grin faltered. “Night duty. Of course.”

  Ja’ra rumbled a laugh. “Better fights after dark anyway.”

  Lae’ni’s silver braid slid over her shoulder as she leaned in, eyes bright.

  “The forest comes alive at night. I welcome it.”

  Ken raised his staff in a half-shrug. “Then we’d better take a nap this afternoon.”

  James ran a hand along Charlie’s neck.

  The dog pressed into him, solid and warm.

  Squire flicked her tail, smug.

  James looked around the table. “How far’s the Dungeon, anyway?”

  Trish didn’t even look up from sharpening her blade. “East side of town. Ten minutes down the path there’s a forested glade with a ring of stones.”

  James nodded slowly.

  “Tonight,” he said, voice carrying.

  “We have guard duty.”