Tickwell

The day Tickwell explained this, a young squirrel named Nutkin was having a terrible time. Nutkin had been practising on a different game at home, one with a big clock counting up in the corner of the screen, second by second, the whole time you played.

"I keep making mistakes," Nutkin said, tail twitching. "I see the clock going up and up, and I rush, and I click the wrong square, and I lose."

Tickwell nodded slowly. "The clock was loud," he said.

"It's not even making a sound," said Nutkin.

"It's loud inside your head," said Tickwell. "When you can see the seconds going by, part of your mind is watching the clock instead of the board. It pulls at you. It says hurry, hurry. And hurrying is how mistakes happen."

He picked up his pocket watch and held it up, still closed. "In the League, your time is never shown while you play. The League keeps track quietly, but it doesn't tick in front of you. You only see your time after you finish the board."

Nutkin's eyes widened. "So I can just... think?"

"You can just think," said Tickwell with a lazy smile. "Find your proofs. Check your flags. Take your time with the tricky parts. And when the last square opens, then you get to see how fast you were. The speed comes at the end, not in the middle."

Nutkin tried a League board. There was no clock ticking in the corner. At first it felt strange, almost too quiet. Then it started to feel good. Nutkin looked carefully, found the proofs one by one, never rushed, never panicked. The board cleared without a single mistake.

Only then did the time appear. It wasn't the fastest time in the world. But Nutkin had finished the whole board, and that felt wonderful.

"Here's the funny part," said Tickwell, opening his watch at last and glancing at it. "When you stop rushing, you usually get faster anyway. Mistakes cost more time than thinking does. Calm hands are quick hands."

"And my time is just for me?" asked Nutkin.