I will be completely honest; I never understood what enticed people about the whole idea of ‘knights.’ I can barely stand the plasticky gym wear that men wear to lift weights… imagine sweaty metal so close to your crotch! I mean, why? What happens if someone caves the metal crotch in? Mh. It is also true that if you didn’t have the metal protection, anything could just cave in your real crotch.
That’s something to consider, I suppose.
“Are you Joey Luciani?” The [Knight] insists.
“Yes,” I say as Flaminia wakes up.
“What’s happening?” She yawns, looking confusedly at the [Knight].
“You have received an invitation on behalf of [Lady] Diana Valeria,” the [Knight] extends his armored hand with a leather package.
“Who?” I ask.
“The Scarlett Hunter?!” Flaminia suddenly jerks awake, jumping up from the bench.
Who? Also, [Lady] Diana? Are these people for real?
“Wait. I think Truffles mentioned this,” I slowly unfold the leather package to find a shiny, silvery insignia—well, it’s a leaf made of silver, actually.
“That is your invitation, Joey Luciani. You can bring a partner if you wish so. [Lady] Diana Valeria has made it very clear that she looks forward to knowing the new Human in Amorium.”
That said, the [Knight] just casually walks away.
Clodia enters the breakroom moments after.
“What was all that about? I almost caved that idiot’s helmet in when he barged into the bakery. What have you done now, Joey?”
“Me?” I say, looking at the shiny leaf made of silver. “I really don’t know. But more importantly… is this Diana… hot?”
…
[Lady] Diana Valeria Scarlatta.
At some point, I swear I should really start checking if other continents also have some weird naming conventions—well, not weird, just historical. This is one of the things that an idiot would investigate and suddenly find themselves ensnared into God knows what crazy interplanetary plot.
If I ever got shipwrecked – or plane-wrecked – on a weird island, I’d rather just eat some coconut and have some desperation-fueled survival-of-the-species-motivated sex than waste my time finding trapdoors that lead God knows where.
But yeah.
[Lady] Diana Valeria Scarlatta.
I suppose that [Lady] is her class, and the rest follows the ancient Roman naming convention. Diana is the praenomen, what we would refer to as the first name. Valeria is the nomen, meaning she comes from the gens Valeria—also, the plural of gens is gentes. It’s a fancy name to indicate noble families. Scarlatta, instead, is the cognomen. Most people make them up, and you can have more than one—or at least, that’s how I remember it from my Latin class.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Anyway, all of this is to say that ‘Scarlatta’ probably means she’s a redhead. Or that she bathed in blood or some weird stuff like that. Or both. If she’s a redhead, I’ll let the bathing-in-blood thing slide. If she’s hot, we can take a swim in the Phlegethon together—that’s Dante’s boiling blood river, by the way.
“Joey,” suddenly, I see Quintus waiting for me at the entrance to Happy Bakery.
The middle-aged [Soldier] looks sharp and dangerous in his baking uniform. Unlike the rest of Happy Bakery, my team, including Raissa but excluding Flaminia, is wearing black uniforms with Lorenzo’s insignia.
On top of that, Quintus has his brownish-red hair cut like Arthur from Peaky Blinders. The man looks sharp. And I’ll admit it, I had sorely underestimated the care both Tiberius and Quintus have put into this new job.
While working with me might have given them an advantage in terms of leveling faster than others, it’s still incredible that they did it so quickly.
I have to inquire more, but they are both above level 10… But I don’t really remember what that means, though.
Whatever.
“What’s up?” I say, nodding at the usually angry guy.
“We are swinging by the Pratus with the bread. You coming?”
“Sure thing, I wanted to cut some hair there anyway,” I yawn and look around, “where’s Tiberius?”
“He went to get some health potions. You know, a few of the guys could use some, and it’s not like we are doing much with our money,” he says, scratching the sides of his head.
“Oh, damn. Lemme know next time. I want to pitch in.”
“Joey, you really don’t—”
“I want to,” I say, walking side by side with Quintus as we go through the morning crowd.
After a short silence, Quintus clears his voice, “What about Gregorius and Lucanus?”
The two are the next two soldiers we’ll probably break out of poverty. Gregorius is the fat guy who got a beating when we went out to the inn, a long-standing friend of Tiberius and Quintus’, while Lucanus is the most skilled homeless person I’ve met.
“I think they are trustworthy enough to put them to work with us at Happy Bakery,” I sigh. “But that’s not going to solve the bigger problem, is it? We can’t bring too many of them to Happy Bakery.”
Quintus nods, pained.
We have already discussed this at length.
“What about Truffles’ soap?” He asks.
“That’s something that might actually work in our favor. Most ingredients we’ll need are pretty cheap, and I’m sure we would be able to source them without a problem. But there’s one person I wanted to talk with before actually starting some crazy beef with the [Merchants] that sell soap.”
“Fuck, I wish I could do more,” Quintus swears.
“We all do,” I say, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “But I’m making boatloads of money. Let’s just keep doing what we are doing, and I’ll have enough to pay out every single debt. Also, we could start a charity side business to take care of future debts arising from the military.”
I cringe, though.
“Well, the problem is that we would have to make sure the military isn’t actually taking advantage of this ‘debt-creating’ capability of theirs.”
“What do you mean?” Quintus suddenly perks up and takes my hand off his shoulder.
“I have been wondering about how they price stuff. Like, do they make a profit off the debt? If they buy a sword for one silver, let’s say, do they charge you one silver for it? Why aren’t they simply putting more into the [Soldiers’] wages and letting them sort out their own equipment?”
“Most would spend all of it on booze and whores,” Quintus deadpans.
“Alright. But my original question still stands. If I can randomly charge you with any amount of debt, I see how even a charity wouldn’t solve the problem. Are these records somehow public? Like, could we get access to your bills?”
“You mean all the expenses that created the debt, one by one?”
Quintus actually stops in the middle of the road, almost getting taken under by a cart.
“Move!” An angry Elf shouts at my friend as he looks down at the road with wide eyes.
“Now that I think about it, I have never seen the details…”
“I mean,” I say while pushing him toward the Pratus and off the road, “I hope they are not scamming anyone, but I’d first make sure that the debt situation is properly taken care of on their end. If it is, then we just have to make much more money. Money is easy, but challenging bureaucracy, instead, would be a nightmare.”
“But what if the military is overcharging?”
“If the military is overcharging, we might resort to some extreme measures.”
“Like?” Quintus scoffs. “What could we possibly do about it?”
“There’s this thing that every [Bureaucrat] and [Politician] is terrified of in the city where I come from.”
“What is it?”
A big grin spreads over my face.
“Have you ever heard of unions?”