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Casual Heroing
Chapter 17 - Housing

Chapter 17 - Housing

"I will be paying your landlord directly out of your wage," Clodia explains as we walk through the Pratus. Not even big, hard Clodia is immune to its prettiness. "I do this because I don't want any trouble with her in case you decide not to pay on time. It's easier for all parties involved."

"No problem," I smile.

"You will start with the salary of an [Apprentice Baker]. You'll get more money as you get promoted," I hear Clodia hissing before adding the last part. "We will need to reach an agreement on how you get paid for the special contributions you make. So far, caramel and yeast are on the list. By the way, Flaminia will pick you up later today to go to the local breweries and do your... experiments."

"Sounds rad to me," I keep nodding.

"So, your [Apprentice Baker] wage will barely pay the bills," she says, looking at me meaningfully. "You better level up your class as soon as possible so I can promote you."

"I'm sure I'll level it up tonight or... how did it work again?"

"You level up when you go to sleep," Clodia sighs. "You really don't know anything about classes and levels, do you?"

"Not a thing," I double-click with the side of my mouth.

"Rotting roots of the World Tree," Clodia exhales again.

Elves have the wildest sayings, I swear.

"Is that an Elven swear word? Can you teach me some? Like, what's next, holy melons?"

Clodia stares hard at me.

"The pay for your ideas—"

"However you want," I shrug. "I believe in good karma. Since you are good to me, I'll be good to you. So what's the best option?"

"I'll give you a golden bonus for the caramel. If the yeast works, I can give you half a percentage point on all the bread net profits made that way."

"You can keep the caramel—that's a gift. But it's going to be five percent on the net, after expenses, for the bread. Not needing to use skills for every batch means you can ramp up production and flood the market with cheap bread. Also, by the time others catch up to this, you might have swallowed all the city's need for bread. Also, I want sixty—nah, maybe eighty? Yeah, let's make it eighty pounds of free bread each day to be delivered where I want."

"Are you—"

"Oh, Clodia," I say, stopping by the side of the road. "I'm not negotiating. I swore to my mother that I would never take a bad deal. Swore. Not just promised. It's an oath between her and me. She once cried because of the bad deals I would make. So, here's how it will go: You either accept, or I will go to your competition straight away. I like Happy Bakery, but I'm not stupid."

I can see Clodia's eyes going wide at my sudden seriousness.

I know it's... not ideal. I'm not big on confrontation. But I'm not joking when I say my mother begged me to use my brain to make good deals. And I don't break promises to her... especially now.

After a few snarls, I see Clodia nodding. "You know your value," she says. "I can swing all that. What do you need eighty pounds of bread for?"

"I'm actually not sure eighty pounds is enough," I shrug. "But it's for the homeless people in the Pratus."

Clodia looks at me with a frown.

"Homeless people?"

"Yeah, the... vagrants? Don't you call them homeless?"

"Yes, yes. But, why?"

"Are they well-fed?" I ask.

"No?"

"Yeah. They aren't. That's why. You have the..." God, I wish my memory worked better. "What's the name of the fields outside the walls? I think Lucillus mentioned that."

"Green Walk? Green Stretches?"

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"I think it's the second?"

Clodia nods. "The Green Walk is a sightseeing path carved among all the fields and wonders there. The Green Stretches is the name of all the fields together. You know that Amorium is the granary of Epretos, right?"

"Yeah? Anyway, the Green Stretches—that one. So, first, I'll get some bread for the guys, then maybe some veggies and fruits. We'll see."

"You want to spend golds on the vagrants each day?" Clodia looks very confused.

"Yeah. Give them a hand, you know. I actually wanted to stop and talk to them, but I needed to fetch some stuff before. I learned a few tricks outside of baking... whatever. When bakeries here don't sell all their products, don't they just give them away?"

"Why would they?" Clodia looks confused. "If something is not sold, you just keep it good with a preservation rune."

Right, magic.

"I used to try and help as much as possible when I was working in my... Human bakery, let's say. We didn't really have preservation runes, so I worked on a program to donate food to homeless people. I guess people here produce less waste, but there’s also less to give to them."

"Runes are a thing everywhere in the world," Clodia says, suspicious.

"Oh, I see," I scratch my head. "That makes a whole lot of sense. Heh, whatever. Eighty pounds is not much for a bakery working 24/7, am I right?"

“What’s twentyfourseven?” Clodia asks, cleary confused.

“I mean, when something is open twenty-four hours out of twenty-four for all seven days a week?”

She keeps staring at me as if I was stupid or something.

“You mean 27/9?” She asks.

“What?”

“27/9.”

“27/9?” I am bedazzled.

“Yes,” she stares confusedly at me.

“You mean that we have twenty-seven hours in a day, and there are nine days per week?”

“Yes?” my question carries such incredulity that she seems to doubt her own statement.

“Ha. That’s interesting. I’m going to get a massive jetlag, I suppose,” I shrug. “Better than being burned alive by a Dragon.”

She looks at me weirdly, but Clodia does not make any more comments. I guess she doesn’t want to prolong this conversation much more.

“Well, what’s this landlord like? Is she hot?”

For the first time since I got here, Clodia smiles radiantly. She seems rejuvenated by the question after our hard deals, so happy she could cry from the joy she’s currently overwhelmed by.

She’s a massive bitch, isn’t she?

“She’s very strict with her tenants. We once shared a cell for a few hours. She's a [Mage], and a good one at that. She's a graduate of the Nine Towers, and she once burned a [Thief] to death.”

Well, she’s a massive violent bitch.

As expected.

Thank you, Lady Luck.

...

An Elf with silver hair is looking down at me.

Are all Elves this freakishly tall? I don’t understand. Does this mean I can’t play the ‘I’m so freaking tall’ card with women anymore? Man, don’t I start with a considerable handicap, then?

“How you doin’?” I ask with a broad smile, winking.

"Clodia, is this a joke? A Human? Really? What's next, a rogue elemental? Are you dangerous?" The last question is directed at me.

“Nope. I—my current predicament is plenty weird, but unless someone touches this,” I point at the spellbook I'm carrying with me, “I shouldn’t pose any danger. I mean, unless Clodia makes me bake with bad ingredients and someone gets diarr—”

Clodia slaps the back of my neck so fast I almost fall forward.

“My ingredients are the best!” she says in the ear of mine she’s now twisting.

"Wonderful," the silver-haired Elf points at the scene and sighs. "Is this for real?"

“Shut it, old hag. I can guarantee the Human is alright; he’s working for me,” Clodia shoots back, unfazed.

“And why do I care, pray tell,” the older Elf crosses her arms and stares right through my new boss. She looks ready to tear Clodia a new one.

“I can bring back some sweets?” I volunteer an answer that earns me two hard stares. “And my name is Joey. Joey Luciani.”

After a good half a minute of awkward silence, she nods and fishes out a couple of keys from a pocket of her long robe.

“This is for the gate at the entrance. This one is for your room. You pay every week. Also, Clodia is going to volunteer two months of rent in advance, isn't she?”

My boss doesn’t look thrilled about that.

“There is a little stove with a heating rune. The cupboard has a preservation rune. You ruin any of those two runes, and you pay a fine to have an [Enchanter] inscribe them again. We have a toilet hooked up to the sewer downstairs. And if you receive any messages or letters, the guard at the entrance will take them for you.”

I’m nodding throughout the whole thing, even though I have no idea how to use a heating rune or whatever there is inside my freshly-rented apartment.

“Questions?” the woman asks.

“I didn’t get your name,” I smile brightly.

“That’s because I didn’t tell you,” the woman promptly leaves Clodia and me hanging in front of what’s my new accommodation.

“Agostina is like that, don’t worry,” Clodia breathes out, almost deflating. It was a bit stressful talking to this Agostina. But now, an exciting question has taken over my mind.

“How old do Elves get?” I ask, curious.

“What do you mean?” Clodia frowns.

“Don’t Elves live longer than humans?”

“What? Apart from the fact that humans are tasteless creatures who cannot refrain from killing each other at every twist and turn, we pretty much live for the same amount of time. Sixty is probably a lucky age to get to, on average. There are older bags, and people with high-enough levels to affect even their lifespans. Then, on the other hand, adventurers probably die around thirty. I am twenty-six and—”

“YOU ARE WHAT?” I almost faint at hearing that.

“Twenty-six, and as I was saying—”

“Twenty-six?! But I’m twenty-five, and you look much—” I bit my tongue and immediately cursed my damn mouth.

“I look much what? Do finish the sentence, Luciani,” Clodia narrows her eyes so much they become arrow slits.

“You look like the most stunning woman to ever tread the Elven lands?”

Clodia cracks a fist–a very un-Elven move if you ask me.

But talking about un-Elven things, as I ignore my boss threatening to kill me right here and now, I’m surprised Elves don’t live longer than humans.

What a weird world.