“Goodbye, Joey.”

The words keep ringing in my ears even though Irene and Flaminia left ten minutes ago.

Apparently, Irene is Plinius’s sister; the same [Sergeant] Flaminia had been dating.

I rub my forehead.

What a mix of Shakespeare and Mexican Telenovelas, Jesus.

When has living become so complicated?

What the hell am I going to do with Irene?

She doesn’t believe me.

Do I blame her? I mean, she saw one of the people she must hate the most in this world kiss me. And by the way, Lady Luck, I haven’t forgotten to thank you for your relentless blessings, obviously.

There are more important things to take care of, though.

I feel almost relieved, in a way. I have to take care of the duel and, after that, find a way to…

I swallow.

A way to cure magical cancer.

…

I am walking through the Pratus to reach my house when a giant Elf approaches me.

“Joey.”

“Hey, Stanimal,” I nod at him. “What’s up? All good?”

“No. It’s not all good. I have heard about your duel.”

I look behind the huge man, but I don’t find the usual Godzilla-sized dog at his side.

“Listen, I’ll handle it. Don’t worry about it.”

When my words hit him, though, there’s no smile, there’s no ‘friend,’ and there’s definitely nothing of his usual kindness in his gaze.

“Joey, I can teach you to fight.”

I raise an eyebrow and look around to see if this has suddenly become a comedy show.

“Stanimal, I don’t need it.”

I make to walk past him, but the man grabs my arm with lightning speed.

“You do. The [Corporal] you are going to face is almost level 30, Joey. You have been tricked by a traitor! You have been doing wonderful things for the Elves, Human. You can’t continue if you must leave!”

I feel a spark of anger lighting up in my veins. I slowly look at Stan’s arm and then into his deep eyes.

“Take that hand off first,” I say in a straight voice. When he doesn’t comply, I pry it away myself. “I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to train for this duel. I said I don’t need you to train me.”

Stan seems to be angry now.

“Human, I refused your proposition to get involved with your problems before, but I care about you. Let me teach you how to wield a weapon. I might not be a [Weapon Master], but I still know my way around a blade. You might even say that I’ve had Royal training.”

“Stan, I don’t think you understand what I mean—”

“Human—Joey, I am not pushing my insolence on you, but no one in Amorium is more qualified to teach you than me.”

I actually smile at that, feeling my anger dissipate.

“Stan, again, that’s not what I’m saying. I just don’t want you to be involved with this. You want to help? Start sketching down ideas on how to source the best crops from the Green Stretches or how we can grow them ourselves.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

I put a hand on the extremely tall Elf’s shoulder.

“I like you, my man. You barely wanted to get involved with making money for the homeless people. How is teaching me to wield a weapon any better than that?”

Stan frowns.

“Yes,” I continue. “I know that you are probably a super-mega-secret expert in hiding, Stanimal. I’m not stupid. Even when my brain is not working properly, it’s still very much clear to me. You suck ass at hiding your true self. But that doesn’t change what I’m telling you. I don’t want you to go to war by my side—I want you to help me grow the crops after the war has destroyed them. Think about that. Now, I really have to go. I’ve had enough drama for today, and I have to start my training. Just take a few walks along the Green Stretches, and get me a list of the best people we should hire among the boys here. That’s all I need you to do.”

I see a quick flurry of emotions battling their way between Stan’s wrinkles.

You know, there’s probably something the [Archmage] has done—a skill, I suppose, that he used on me to make me think more clearly. My brain isn’t where it used to be, but it’s close enough to make me see stuff.

To better understand what I’m about to say, just imagine you wanted to bed a big-booty goth girl, alright? God didn’t make all the big-booty goth girls equal. So, if you want to start seeing one on the regular, you have to ask yourself, ‘Why is it that they are a big-booty goth girl?’ The same symptom can emerge from different causes. And so, are they a nice person below all the leather and metal spikes? Many are. But what if they are a narcissist who needs to peacock around and post slutty pictures on the ‘gram?

Every slutty picture your girl posts has a price—nothing in this world is free. And slutty pictures are just one way of signaling, eh? Perhaps, she posts blurred, filtered, artsy pictures to distinguish herself from the mass. Well, that’s just a different way of peacocking.

Every little thing you do has a price, and the price Stan would have to pay to embrace violence is clearly something that would put his soul in debt. Violence, even though I don’t know why, is clearly the narcissistic, big-booty goth girl of Stan’s story.

Helping me with people and going for kindness instead of spite is clearly his big-booty goth girl with a soft heart and a smile capable of lighting up the worst day of your life.

I can tell this much.

As I’m about to leave, he suddenly speaks up, though.

“Joey, there’s something you should probably see…”

…

My eyes and mouth are wide open.

“What the—”

“Arminius conspired with the [Corporal] to trick you into accepting the duel. I have overheard him bragging about it. The [Corporal] wanted you to believe that if you could defeat a couple of his grunts with magic, you would have the upper hand in a duel against him. His rotten plans have sadly worked.”

I am looking at an unconscious Arminius tied to a tree with metal chains. He’s completely bruised from head to toe, his face barely recognizable.

“Stan, did you…” I point at the ex-officer.

Stan shakes his head.

“I have lost my temper with him, but all that you are looking at was done by others. I simply stopped them from killing him.”

“What the—” I slowly walk up to Arminius, and I see all eyes in the homeless camp looking at me. “Jesus,” I mutter to myself as I check out Arminius’s condition from up close and take out a healing potion from my bag.

“Joey?” I hear someone call my name, but I tch and ignore them.

I put the healing potion in Arminius’s mouth after propping his head up and letting some of it trickle down his mouth.

“Yo, drink up,” I say. “Yo!”

He makes a small movement, and I see him swallowing a few times, making me more confident to let more of the potion flow into his mouth at once.

It takes a while for the man to drink the whole thing, with his face so swollen he probably can’t even see me.

When the potion is finished, I just take out another and place it at the bottom of the tree he’s chained to.

“You guys,” I say to the people around me. “Unchain him and give him that potion when he finally wakes up.”

I’m about to leave when I hear Arminius’s guttural voice.

“Worm.”

Here we go.

I ignore the insults that start flying his way and look at the broken smile on the man’s face with a frown.

“Arminius. Spare whatever you want to say. There’s a healing potion down by your feet. Drink it when—”

He looks down and, with the last bit of strength, kicks it away.

Thankfully, the bottle just rolls away instead of shattering into a thousand pieces.

“I don’t need… your charity! Worm!”

“Just force-feed him,” I say to no one in particular after a shrug. “Arminius, have a good one.”

“You will finally be out of Amorium!” Arminius wheezes, laughing madly. “It was all me, you worm! The inn, this! You fell for it!”

This doesn’t feel like the villain gloating at the destruction of the main character at the cost of his own. No, it feels like a desperate man foaming at his mouth, clawing at anything within his grasp—looking for crumbles of the very essence that makes us Human. Well, an Elf, in his case.

I ignore his words; I mute them out as I look at his eyes now that the swelling has subsided, thanks to the potion.

He has been promised something, hasn’t he? What a vile tactic to take a desperate man and offer him something to sell someone else out. I saw the pride in his eyes when we sparred for the second time.

I look at the tree for a second and then lower my eyes to meet Arminius’s, seemingly shutting him up. I take a step forward and approach him.

“I forgive you,” I say and turn back to walk away.

As I walk away, some of the homeless approach me, but the time for talking has expired.

The sky is blue above my head, and a grin spreads across my face.

Yes, I might forgive Arminius, but he’s not the only party involved and definitely the one least at fault.

It’s time for me to step up and show this world who Joey Luciani can really be.

Appius, I’m coming for you. You will regret this.