The Strongest Spellblade

“This piece of candy is five copper, not one less,” my father said. He was right, they were quite valuable. But that was wrong. I had to focus.

“Four,” I said through gritted teeth as contradictory thoughts rampaged through my head.

“Four,” he replied, and the pressure disappeared. I let out a gasp. I slowly reached out and pushed my coins to my father and then took the piece of chocolate. I smiled as I ate it. My father didn’t like sweets, since one could get the negative skill Sweet Tooth.

But it was a useful training method, since there was nothing else of value to argue over. I loved sweets. They were my weakness. If I had to fight a chocolate monster in the dungeon, I would eat it rather than kill it, even if it did horrible things to my body. Well, maybe not that much, but I loved sweets.

There were other skills that were considered negative or not useful. It was about what one was focused on and what the System recognized that determined if a person got a skill.

“How are you feeling?” my father asked.

“Mentally drained. Social skills are brutal,” I replied.

“Well, I am not holding back or trying to be subtle. It is considered quite rude to do this. But it is great for helping you level,” he replied. I knew that from my Eldarin Etiquette but I hadn’t realized they could be so strong. Even after the First Prince, I thought if I was ready, I would be able to resist.

“Why is it so tough? Can you make someone do something, like kill themselves?” I asked.

“No, you can’t do that. Well not easily at least. Social skills use Mana to get past your outer defenses, your Social Resistance skill, and then all you have is your Focus Stat. A soul will normally try to preserve itself instinctually, so if there is a threat to your life, that will help a person break from the control of a social skill,” my father explained.

“Two copper for the next piece,” I quickly said.

“No. No. No.” Each no was like a hammer against my mind. “We already agreed on a price of six copper,” my father said.

“It was four copper, just last time,” I countered.

“So, you lied to me. How distressing. I don’t need to sell them. Perhaps I will eat one myself,” he said and popped a chocolate in his mouth and began chewing.

“You can’t do that! Five copper,” I said.

“Eight now, there are less and they are rarer. I also enjoy eating them,” he said. I wanted to fight back and say something else, but I just couldn’t.

“Seven,” I gasped out. I then regretfully pushed over seven copper to get the next small piece of chocolate.

“What you are talking about matters. Gaining the upper hand in a conversation can sway things in your favor or against. While you didn’t lie, your mind became confused for a moment, which let me hammer home my advantage,” he explained.

“All nobles do this?” I asked.

“To varying degrees. Using it outside of the nobility is considered both rude and risky. Since if you target the wrong person and your skills fail, it can get quite lethal after that. I know your mother enjoys beheading anyone who tries and use an active social skill on her,” he explained.

“Really, isn’t that a bit extreme?” I asked.

“It is considered an attack. For nobles it is simply a back and forth we are used to. But what the First Prince did when he visited was extremely improper,” my father said.

“But there is nothing that can be done,” I muttered.

“No. He is the First Prince and he didn’t do anything besides asking you to think about the future. If he asked for a favor or personal knowledge, then it would be different,” my father explained.

“It just feels wrong to let him get away with such an action,” I replied.

“You can go about seeking to settle all minor slights, or focus on moving on and getting stronger. Take it as a lesson,” my father explained.

“My mother doesn’t move on,” I replied.

“And she is the Supreme Warlady, not some noble woman. When you are over level 150, you can do what you please,” my father countered. Okay, that was a good point. I couldn’t go around killing people that I disagreed with unless I was super strong. Or I could tell my mother, which I wouldn’t do, but was an option to get revenge. “And no, you shouldn’t complain to your mother.”

“I won’t, but why?” I asked and he let out a sigh.

“The political situation right now is in a delicate state. Complicating it any more will only lead to more troubles. If you complain to her, the First Prince and future King will be killed, which will create a crisis in this country. It is best to avoid such things, if possible,” my father explained.

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That was what I liked about my father. He didn’t hesitate to explain things to me. Even if they were things I wouldn’t have to deal with, he didn’t keep me in the dark or try to coddle me. That would have infuriated me.

While he might use a bit of flowery language or his Drama skill to frame things in a certain way, that was expected. While he was my father he was also a noble as well. That kind of thing came naturally to him. Like killing did for my mother.

Well, that was a bit unfair towards her, maybe. I didn’t understand her very well. I knew she loved me, but she was absent so much it was hard to say what she was like beyond her martial prowess and loving me.

“Tell me what you think about your mother,” my father told me. I wasn’t supposed to follow his commands or answer his questions, but it seemed incredibly reasonable. Like my father should know the answer to this question.

“I…she is amazing and I look up to her,” I said. I was really beginning to dislike social skills. My father gave me a small smile.

“Oh, tell me something specific you like about her,” he told me. I tried to fight his suggestion. I knew I didn’t want to answer, but at the same time I did. It was like I was fighting with myself.

“AHHH! Brown hair,” I shouted and gasped out.

“No screaming in rage to overcome social skills,” my father said. I let out a gasp before he hit me with his social skills again.

“Tell me what you dislike about her,” he told me.

“Nrrrrrrrrrrrr, her absence,” I groaned out and he nodded. My head collapsed on the table. I felt completely wrung out. There was no pain or exhaustion, just an overwhelming sense of frustration that I couldn’t resist even when I knew what was coming.

My father had explained it was the sheer stat and level difference. His Focus was much higher than mine and his skills laughed at my paltry Social Resistance and other skills. Even with Soul Sense and Mana Sense, his social skills were like a tsunami striking a small house. I was the small house in the metaphor.

Monsters didn’t use social skills but some used illusions which worked the same way based on their underlying principles of how Mana hit a soul, so this training was useful even if I was going to focus on being an adventurer. My father pointed out that facing him was the equivalent of facing a regular illusion monster on the 12th layer of the dungeon.

Even if I knew I had no chance, I felt like I should. That my actions shouldn’t be beyond my control. “Oh, how upset are you? What would you like to say to your mother?” he asked me.

I wanted to claw my eyes out to stop this. I hated it. I absolutely hated it, but I wanted to answer his questions. I needed to answer them. Like an overwhelming need, I just couldn’t help myself. “Only a slight bit. I would tell…tell…tell her that I love her,” I said with a gasp. I had tried to fight it, but I just couldn’t.

“Do you love her more than me?” my father asked. He wasn’t trying to be mean on purpose, but I needed to actually care about the answers to put up a fight in order to improve my skills. While there was no risk of death, embarrassment was still a distant second.

“I…I…looooove you the same but different,” I was forced to say. No matter what I tried, I always had to answer. The one nice thing was that it was really obvious if someone was going all out with their social skills and there were other ways to break the connection. Screaming, running away, hitting yourself. But for this exercise I wasn’t allowed to do any of these things. They only compelled my words, not my actions, but my father warned me that at a high enough level difference people could be convinced to do some outlandish things.

Criminals often used social skills, but that was why such training was highly regulated to the nobility. Anyone besides them using social skills drew a lot of negative attention. There were very few social skill tutors out there and their client list was regularly checked to ensure they weren’t teaching the wrong sort. This meant people who weren’t nobility.

“Now tell me. Have you ever wet yourself?” I refused to answer this. I clenched my jaw tight and forced myself to focus on my breathing through my nose. “Oh, you don’t want to answer, but I am trustworthy. You should tell me. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else,” my father said.

No! I refused to give in. My hands gripped the table between us tightly. “Isn’t your jaw getting tired. Just give it a small rest, I don’t mind,” he said. That did seem reasonable and it was feeling stiff. I relaxed my jaw slightly and it opened.

“I-“ That was when I slapped myself, breaking whatever hold the social skills had on me.

“We can stop if you want?” my father asked.

“No. I just…I can do this. No matter what,” I said. My father gave me a look like he clearly didn’t believe me.

“Do you really think you can do this?” he asked. I let out a sigh.

“No. I am horrible at this. I need to increase my Focus stat so I never have to worry about this kind of mental attack ever again,” I replied. I wanted to glare at my father for using his skills so naturally like that, but that was what someone would social skill would do. They wouldn’t use them all right away. That would be like blowing into a horn and yelling at someone. That’s when I realized he had just used his skills in a subtle manner to get me to answer. He was smiling at me, dammit.

They would slide them into a conversation to convince me to say things I didn’t want to say. Or just answer more than I would have normally answered. “Oh, how rough. Do you want me to go easier on you?”

“Nrrrrrrrrooooo,” I ground out. “Dammit,” I muttered.

“Don’t get frustrated, why don’t you lean back and relax, no need to be so tense,” my father said. I did want to do that. I took a deep breath and untensed. Dammit! I just let that one slip by without fighting it.

“Now tell me, have you ever wet yourself?” my father asked again.

“Glob-ab-lab-lab,” I tried biting on my tongue, but my mouth didn’t want to cooperate. So everything just got twisted up instead.

“Oh, how cute. Is that a new baby word glob-ab-lab-lab?” my father asked.

“No, it isn’t. Not a baby word at all. I am fighting back against your skills,” I said a bunch to give me a moment to gather my wits again before my father’s next social attack.

“Oh, a new language then. Tell me, does that mean you wet yourself?”

“No, yes, I don’t know,” I was confused. Thankfully the question was a bit unclear so I could deflect the worst of it. But I knew my father would keep coming.

“Oh, the word doesn’t mean that and you did wet yourself. How embarrassing. Tell me how embarrassing it was,” he told me. I really wanted to gouge out my eyes and scream at the moment. This was one of the worst things I had ever experienced.

“In….in….in….the dungeon, was about to die,” I finally said.

“That must have been scary. Tell me how afraid you were?” my father asked. I couldn’t take it anymore. I hated this. I couldn’t stand it. I slammed my head down onto the table. Clearing it for another moment thankfully.

“That is just going to give you brain damage, not help your skills,” my father said.

“This is the absolute worst,” I replied.

“It is, but you wanted the training. Now tell me about the stuffed bear you had as a child, what was its name again?” I didn’t want to talk about the bear. I had set it aside when my status became available. My father was relentless. People thought my mother was evil, but they must not have known about social skills.