The cell is, well, a cell. Whatever I imagined a medieval jail cell to look like, this is pretty much it. There are metal bars, a tiny window, and a shit bucket. Other than that, there’s dirt on the ground—no bed.
Kicking down a door in the [Mayor]’s office is apparently a much bigger crime than I ever thought.
I suck in some air while I think about what’ll come next.
I want to take these bars in my hands, activate the runes, and bend them. That’s all I want. I want to kick this piece to rubble. I want to go back to that backstabbing, lying [Mayor] and stuff my sword down his throat.
I just tried to open a fucking business.
That’s all I tried to do. I wanted to open a business, and now, I’m in jail.
I just wanted to do the right thing...
Oh, but Joey, you kicked down a door.
Bite me.
This, young Luciani, is what you must expect from a non-Vanedeni society. You can’t trust weaklings to make good choices and to rectify the course of their society. That man knew you would benefit his city, but he prefers the lies, the deception.
“Shut up,” I growl.
You might not see it now, but what you need is among your new kind. I can take you back if you want. It will take a moment to gather enough resources to avoid wasting more Mana reserves, but it’s possible for us to teleport back to Kome.
“No.”
Think about it, then. I swore to follow whoever picked up the book.
...
“The [Mayor] is pressing all the charges he can and more,” [Captain] Drusillus sighed. “He says you threatened him, essentially.”
“I didn’t,” I reply.
“He didn’t,” Lucinda adds from the [Captain]’s side.
“Legally speaking, you did,” [Captain] Drusillus deadpans. “You used violence in the town hall, Luciani.”
“Ok? So, how many weeks of prison is this going to be?”
That’s when Lucinda looks down.
Oh, shit.
“We have special laws against Humans,” the man says. “You might be jailed for a year—or more.”
I blink repeatedly, looking at the man as if waiting for him to drop the joke.
“Are you actually serious?”
“Joey, it’s all my fault, I—”
“Are you actually fucking serious?!”
“The Watch will clear the rotten number of charges the [Mayor] is levying against you, but the bulk of them has a solid legal standing. The [Mayor]... he’s up for re-election this year. This is a golden opportunity for him.”
“Oh my fucking God,” I say, running my hand through my hair, “not only did I train for a stupid fucking duel because of a racist piece of shit [Soldier]... not only did I bring you back the bodies of your own people. But now, I have to go through this because the [Mayor] is refusing to follow his own law and accept my goddamn application?!”
“Calm down,” [Captain] Drusillus says, raising an eyebrow.
“Calm down?! You want to put me away! Are you out of your mind?! A year?! Drusillus, fuck you!”
“Unfortunately, you have no citizenship nor residence,” he explains with an even voice. “You are virtually without any right for your stay here. The [Mayor] knew that. I would imagine a part of what happened was in his plans from the start.”
My whole body twitches, spasming in anger.
I raise my hand and try to speak, but I have no words.
In the dimness of my cell, my mind wanders to that otherworldly aspect of me that I’ve been looking away from—the golem I’ve trained against, the [Champion]. I remember how it felt, confronting that thing and the clarity it brought for a moment. The training was brutal, but it forced me to see what I was scared to accept.
It wasn’t an organic realization, and despite the confidence I displayed in front of Magister Mulligan, a seed of fear still lingers in me. I wonder if that special part of me, that uniqueness, will alienate me further, like... it already happened in the past. A scary thought creeps in: will I be alone to face this?
“You have visitors, anyway.”
...
“Hey, Clodia,” I say, trying to appear less shaken than I really am.
“Boy,” Clodia’s mother comes right behind her through the corridor that brings them to my cell. There’s no one else in here—the other prisoners got transferred to avoid trouble.
“Hey, Marcella—oh, Tiberius, Quintus! Hey!” The two ex-[Soldiers] look distraught and in disbelief as they march toward the edge of my cell.
“Drusus really needs a lesson or two,” Marcella says, looking around the jail cell. “At least they removed all the rats that used to be here.”
“Huh?” I ask, confused.
“My mother has been in here a couple of times,” Clodia sighs.
Aw, that’s heartwarming.
“Alright, fellow felon, what’s up?” I stress a smile. “So, it’s looking... dirty. The [Mayor] wants me here for his campaign.”
“Your best bet,” Marcella says, smacking her lips, “is to wait out the campaign. He’ll probably take the charges back once he wins.”
“How long is that again?” I ask.
“Four months,” Clodia scoffs. “Mother, can’t you do anything?”
“Oh, I could.”
“Miss Aureamanus,” Quintus speaks from the back, “please?”
“Listen, boys,” Marcella says, “I can’t get Joey out without giving the [Mayor] a win too. We could turn this into a... whipping? Maybe a few days in the stocks. Some public humiliation would work best for you to get out of here in a month. I could negotiate on your behalf.”
I look at the old Elf woman and have to restrain from asking Magister Mulligan to get me my sword—I left the bag of holding with him. I wasn’t going to hand it out. He also retrieved the Omnium Compendium, obviously.
I put my hands on the bars of my cell, applying some pressure and making them creak.
They are underestimating me. They think I’ll just take this—or that I’ll lose it and make it worse. What they don’t know is who’ll have it worse.
“Nah,” I say, sucking in some air. “I’m good.”
“But Joey, are you going to stay so long in prison?” Tiberius asks, worried.
“Perhaps,” I say, still weighing my options. “Or perhaps I’ll get sick of it. We’ll see, man. We’ll see.”
...
Truffles just stares from the other side of the cell, thinking.
“Hey, Truffleman.”
“His name is most definitely not—”
“Shush, Tullia,” Truffles’s father, Chrysantus, says.
“Don’t tell me to shush!”
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
“Joey,” Truffles speaks out loud, “can’t you get out? Dad, can’t we get him out?”
The blond looks confused as he knocks on the metal bars of the cell.
“That would be against the law,” Chrysantus explains.
“And?” Truffles frowns. “The crime was stupid. They can arrest him just like that. Doesn’t he have any rights as an adventurer?”
“He’s not technically on active adventurer duty, so... no protection.”
“Hey, man, don’t worry,” I say, my heart warmed. “I’m sure we’ll find a solution, you know? Big ol’ Joey is not going to go down easy.”
“But what about the soap?” Now, it’s Truffles looking distraught.
“Oh, right. Well, tell you what, I have some time on my hands now. Why don’t I explain to you the gist of it? Any of you have any paper?”
...
In the past, I was afraid that being who I am would forever damn me to be alone. Staring at the bars, lost in thought, I wonder if I was right. Am I destined to remain in this cell for a year? How long is it going to take for people to forget about me, for them not to care anymore?
For a few moments, it feels like I just went back in time.
...
“You are such a stupid boy,” Agostina scoffs.
Damn, they really have, like, non-stop visiting hours?
“Hi to you too. Don’t worry, isn’t the rent paid by Clodia anyway? I’m pretty sure I never paid anything myself.”
“Joey,” Domitilla looks concerned from the other side of the bars and takes out two small containers from her bag. “This is some food. We’ll bring more tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s very sweet,” I say, picking up the two cylindrical containers. I briefly sniff what’s inside, and it smells like lidulae. The eggplant-like veggies. “Thank you, Domitilla. Did you make this yourself?”
“My niece has been making all kinds of food for you, Human. But apparently, she’s not as good as that [Chef].”
Wait, what?
“Don’t mind her,” Domitilla says. “I tried to visit you a few times while you were training, but I only found Lucinda and Flaminia at your place.”
Oh, right.
“Well, I’m sure this is going to be delicious. Thank you again.”
“I hope I can taste some of your cooking when you are out,” Domitilla smiles. “Or do you reserve it only for redheads?”
Well, well, well.
“Alright, sure,” I wink at her.
...
“Those pieces of shit,” Flaminia stomps on the ground. “This is unbelievable! After what you did?! Come on! Rotten bastards!”
“I like that; do continue. Rotten bastards. What else?” I say, sitting on the ground and eating some of Domitilla’s food with a spoon I had the old man retrieve for me from my bag of holding.
“How could they?! Don’t they know how much money would flow into Amorium thanks to you?”
“Flam, I—”
“No! They are trying to climb the wrong tree! Rotten roots, they are unearthing the whole thing before it bears fruits, before it even sprouts!”
She goes on a tirade while I eat in silence, not really knowing what to say or how to react.
There’s not much to do. So far, the only real option has been offered to me by Agostina, and I’m not getting humiliated in public because of an election.
I would first cut your head off myself, young Luciani, than let you dishonor yourself as a disciple of mine.
Another great thought, I sigh.
...
“Hey, I didn’t expect you,” I say to the white-haired Vanedeni. “Milady.”
“You can break out of this,” she states matter-of-factly. “What, are you not going to participate in the Dungeon exploration? That [Captain] is going to stop you?”
“I guess,” I say, currently sitting against the cell wall. “And yeah, I can break these bars. Then what?”
“You wield a Vanedeni sword,” she replies.
“Ok, and...?”
“You ought to take pride in it. Being a Vanedeni—”
“Listen!” I say, getting up, my patience running thin. “I don’t give a fuck, OK?!”
“You do behave like a teen,” Lisith says. “Your mind clearly doesn’t match your talent. My ancestors would be ashamed.”
I go to the bars, grabbing one so tight that the metal has the imprints of my hand when I let go.
“What would a Vanedeni have me be? A murderer? Should I go out and kill everyone who disrespects me? Or what, keep living my life like a lunatic—is that your answer? Just go ape?”
“My answer is for you to behave like a Vanedeni,” Lisith says, pointing at the cell, “this? This is not how a Vanedeni would have gone down.”
“Do you even understand what you are saying? I kicked down a door, and they threw me in prison; do you understand what that means?”
That’s when Lisith steps forward and grabs the collar of my shirt, bringing our faces an inch from each other.
“Who are you? What’s in your heart? That anger, use it. You think you need to die here? You could be great. More than that, your talent... do you have any idea what it means?”
“It means I get to stay in jail for at least four months,” I say, not shying away from her face, my jaw clenched.
“You don’t understand, do you?” She says, genuinely surprised. “And to think we could have this happen outside Kome. You are...”
“I’m what, a coward, a traitor?”
“You have a choice in front of you. You can take this abuse and be nothing—but with all the people moving into this city because of you? You could start a revolution. Take a stance; be a Vanedeni. Get out of here; ask the people who’s going to stand behind you and who’s going to back down.”
“And start a civil war? Is that your solution? Like, even if people decided to stand with me, they would all be committing treason. I broke the law.”
“My people have started wars over lesser slights. You would be fighting not for this but against corruption, against prejudice. There’s a great cause behind you... you could really become a... This setting...”
She shakes her head multiple times before just turning away and leaving.
But before she walks through the door, she looks over her shoulder and adds, “If you ever decide to be a Vanedeni, all our people will stand behind you—I know I will.”
And she’s gone.
“What the hell has just gone down?” I ask.
No one replies.
“Old man, I’m asking you.”
She thinks this is enough to become a [Hero], young Luciani. You don’t understand how scary it is for our people to dream of a new [Hero]. She was born in an era where it’s been centuries since our last one. If she was right, and you were indeed wasting your time here, it would mean you could be back home and becoming the vanguard of our people.
“Wait, you believe that, too?”
You always had the talent. The question is, do you have the heart?
...
Do I have the heart to start a huge mess over something like this? I mean, it’s not like the Elves don’t have huge problems with racism. But could I, of all people, help them make it better?
Christ, am I actually considering what these two crazies are saying?
There’s a part of me that is. Imagining leading a revolution against the corrupt and prejudiced system, uniting the Elves and the Humans under a single banner of change, and maybe even getting the status of a [Hero]. The prestige, the recognition, the righting of wrongs. It's alluring, to say the least.
It sounds corny as hell, but...
Would that be the right next move? Is that what I should be doing?
Lisith’s words still echo in my head. If I choose to go down that path, embracing this Vanedeni crap, unleashing all I’ve learned from the old man, I—I won’t be alone.
But right when I’m starting to seriously take this craziness into consideration and imagining what would happen, I hear someone else enter.
“Joey?”
“Irene?”
She comes in and stops in front of my cell, holding a small, wrapped package that she offers to me.
“Huh, I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” I say, getting closer to her and taking the package. “Chocolate?”
“Yes,” she nods. “I’ve heard what happened.”
“Heh, not ideal, I know,” I force a smile.
“You were stupid,” she states.
“Alright, thanks?” I frown. “I mean, can’t you be kinder to a poor guy who might spend four months to a year in jail for kicking down a door?”
“Someone should have told you not to do that,” Irene scoffs. “Did you go alone?”
“Nah, Lucinda was with me,” I say, taking out a bar of chocolate, sniffing it, and then biting it.
“She’s a rotten idiot, too, then. How did she not see that this was going to happen.”
“I didn’t really tell her that I was kicking down the door before I actually did it, to be fair,” I sigh. “Good chocolate, anyway. Use less sugar next time, though. The texture is a bit off.”
“You’ll have to wait until you are out if you want to teach me anything,” Irene smiles.
“Damn, that’s cold,” I reply, a smile drawing on my face. “It’s... who knows, I might decide to bust out and lead a revolution for Human rights.”
“Why?” Irene raises an eyebrow. “You think you’ve earned it?”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“Joey, you... you are kind. You help people. You gave me chocolate knowing I was the competition. While you can be stupid, you... aren’t.”
“I’m not following.”
“You are in prison because you did something wrong.”
“No? I’m in prison because the [Mayor] is a lunatic, and this city is racist.”
“You forced your way into his office. He could have asked for something worse—an execution.”
“What?”
Irene seems taken aback.
“The [Mayor] was lenient, Joey. And what do you have to fear being here? Rats? They cleaned up the prison for you and gave you a cell without any particular restraints, even though you can do magic. There are no restrictions on what people can bring you here—food, clothes, whatever. You can even ask for a bed.”
“Can I?”
“Can you stop acting like a rotten idiot?”
“Irene, I’m not acting like—”
“Yes, you are!” She snaps. “Stop being a moron!”
“Excuse me?!”
“Joey, people flocked to your jail cell, the [Captain] is protecting you, and half of the [Guards] know how good you are for the city and their meals since they get the bread from Happy Bakery. Did you forget that Clodia is the main food contractor for this place? Everything that the Watch doesn’t cook in their kitchen is contracted to Happy Bakery.
“Plus,” she adds, “the [Captain] had to send back all the homeless men who wanted to visit you. They were about to riot! They will be allowed to come, though, starting tomorrow. This is barely half of it, and you talk about a revolution?! Do you have mold in your brain?!”
“I...”
“Yes, you do!” Irene shouts. “You always tried to behave justly, didn’t you? Now, you messed up. Own up to it. What, should I not have fed my brothers and sister because my parents died without giving me a notice first? Doesn’t that make me responsible for them?”
“I mean, how old were you?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Irene snaps again. “It was my responsibility, the same way staying here is yours! I’m not even sure the [Mayor] will be able to keep you in jail for that long! Rotten roots, Named Adventurers were here!”
I just stay silent, stunned out of words.
Have I been this stupid just because I was afraid?
“Joey, why are you even thinking you should do anything?”
“I—I,” I bring my hand to my cheek, feeling some tears streaking down my face. “I’m afraid everyone will forget about me in two weeks. I’m... afraid I’ll be alone.”
“Joey... they have to keep people out of here,” Irene looks stunned. “You... no one will forget about you. The crazy Human of Amorium? Rotten roots, I will be visiting every day if that’s what’s going to keep you out of trouble.”
I feel more tears coming and just look at the ground.
“Joey, you are not alone. Everything you did up to now... so many people love you. You changed them, you changed this entire city... you changed me.”
I raise my gaze to meet Irene’s and notice her eyes are wet.
“You’ll never be alone, Joey. I promise. Just sit tight, and when you get out, people will be waiting for you. Not to be mean, but many of those homeless people think you are their only hope. Where do you think they are going to go anyway?”
“Well,” I sniff and laugh, “that was a bit mean.”
“But it’s the truth,” Irene smiles, rubbing her eyes.
“You will not be alone, I promise. I will be with you—every day. Well, as long as you give me some new recipes and ideas for chocolate.”
She puts her hands on the bars, getting closer.
“Deal?”
I move my hands over hers and nod, trying to stave off the sobs.
“Deal.”