"You should be careful, Joey," Flaminia repeats for the umpteenth time.

We managed to evade Fulvia's need to make me a custom-fit robe for the moment, but I had to promise I’d come back. In the end, she gifted me the two nice tunics, saying that there'll be more if my velvet idea pans out.

Flaminia has been apologizing profusely for a while now. However, she doesn’t want to reveal my presence for the time being because she believes some of those guys could actually come to Happy Bakery and cause trouble.

And, apparently, they are [Soldiers]. The guy she kissed barely ten minutes ago is a [Sergeant].

"The Watch can only do so much to them. There are always conflicts between the Watch and the military. [Soldiers] get thrown in jail all the time for some infractions, but they always get released early, no matter what. It's a very delicate balance. The best thing you could do is hire someone from the Watch to discourage action. No one would probably do anything to you if you were walking with a [Guard]. Not even the military can protect someone deliberately attacking a member of the Watch."

"So, the military is super speciesist, and they are at odds with the Watch," I muse out loud.

Let's see, does this bother me?

A bit, I guess.

Getting shivved in the middle of the road by some military freaks is not the best of the ends. But, if I could choose, I'd definitely take death by snu-snu from a very tall and fit Elf. Lucinda, preferably.

"Yes. [Soldiers] stay at the barracks most of the time. The Watch doesn't want them bothering civilians. But whenever they go out drinking or do some other stuff, there's always trouble."

This could be a future problem for when I get an Elven wife, especially if I want to live among tall Elven goddesses.

But you know what they say, God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers. Gotta clap those shorties' cheeks before the Elven Gestapo circumcises my neck.

"Joey, are you taking this seriously?" I hear Flaminia's concerned tone and smile widely.

Rubbing my hands, I put on my best smile and do my custom wink as I explain my battle plan.

"Brutes might think in terms of violence. Plus, if I was a brute myself, I'd think about beating them up or something stupid like that. I'll think about the bodyguard thing. I wouldn't mind spending more time with Lucillus and Antoninus anyway. Plus, I have my way of making up for the speciesism."

"And what's that?" Flaminia says, slightly relieved that I'm taking this seriously.

"Flood Amorium with mixed-race babies," I say with a smile. "And if these people's mothers are young enough, who knows, they might be getting half-Elf, half-Human siblings, soon enough."

...

"Say that again," the [Brewer] looks at Flaminia and me with a frown.

"We'd like some of the gunk at the bottom of your barrels," I say. "We are looking to make some in-home beer for the Happy Bakery employees."

The [Brewer] looks at Flaminia, who nods in return.

"I can do that, but why don't you just use your own grain and hire someone with the right skills?"

See, that's the thing, [Brewers] themselves ignore how most of the fermentation process works.

"We are doing some experiments," I shrug, trying to look as stupid as possible.

"Suit yourself," the pudgy Elf shrugs. "Do you have any preferences? Would you like me to get the process started in a barrel, and then you bring it back?"

"Oh, no, don't worry. Tell me, though, do you have a specific barrel that was too... gassy? Do you have any failed batches we could work our way from? It's easier if we manage to kickstart the production after some hardships. But, then, someone would surely get the [Brewer] class."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The pudgy Elf shrugs again and leads both Flaminia and me to a massive storage room with barrels everywhere.

"I’ve got some bad batches—gassy, as you called them. Barely any alcohol in them. It happens every once in a while. You always get a few barrels like that, and the beer tastes all funky. It's a good idea, the one you had, Human. But it won’t be easy for Happy Bakery. Still, I commend your hardworking nature. You don’t see that often in Humans around these parts."

"I'm trying my best to give my species a better reputation around these parts," I shoot a surreptitious wink at Flaminia, who just shakes her head.

"So, we'll take the failed barrels."

"Sure. I'll get my employees to line them up for you. Do you have a bag of holding?"

I turn to Flaminia, who nods in response.

"It appears so."

...

"That was much easier than I expected," I tell Flaminia. "It came to me on the spot that we don't really need to do much more than ask him what 'gunky grains' produced air instead of alcohol. You can dub me a genius whenever you want, milady."

But I see that Flaminia has still not recovered from the meeting with her douchey friend with benefits.

"Yo, Flam, you ok? I am the discriminated Human, not you. So what's the trouble here? Are you feeling guilty because you banged an idiot? I mean, I have partaken in the horizontal tango with women that had probably escaped from psychiatric wards. No one's perfect, you know?"

"It just..." Flaminia flinches at my words, unable to formulate a coherent response. "I don't know. I feel bad. I'm sorry."

"All good. Does your guy— what's his name again?"

"Plinius. He's a [Sergeant] in the military."

"Does he have a sister?"

"Two of them," Flaminia nods, not immediately understanding what I'm going for.

"Oh, nice. What do they do?"

"One of them is a [Baker] at the Three Roses. The other... I don't remember."

"What's the guy's last name?"

"Last name?"

"The complete name, I mean."

"Plinius Cornelius," she says, "their family comes from very humble beginnings. They only have two names."

She shoots a glance at me that takes me a few seconds to interpret.

Oh, right.

I have only two names.

"Well, I'll let you know, my full name is actually Joey Luciani Biggus Dickus, Flam," I shoot a wink at her and finally manage to squeeze a laugh out of her.

Flaminia sighs, slightly cheered up. The two barrels are in her bag of... whatever that's called. Now, we just need to get back to Happy Bakery and experiment.

"And you know what? I fear the Cornelii family is gonna get acquainted with the meaning of my cognomen. Biggus Dickus is not a joke—it's a promise."

"JOEY!"

...

"Clodia, would you mind talking some sense into him?"

Flaminia and I stare at Clodia, seated in her office, trying to do some real work, while the pink-haired Elf tries to convince our boss to intervene in this matter.

"He wants to fuck that idiot's sister? I support that. I'll even pay for a fertility spell out of pocket. It would be fun seeing how he reacts to a Human bastard as a nephew," Clodia says, then goes back to looking at the documents.

"CLODIA!" Flaminia looks like she’s on the verge of tearing her hair out. "He would KILL Joey! He would literally kill him, and damn the consequences! He's in the military! You know he would!" Clodia raises her gaze from the papers—can we take a moment to talk about the fact that these damn Elves have more paper than people back on Earth? How do they even manufacture that stuff?!

No? Don't want to talk about it? Ok, let's get back to Clodia.

"I agree on the matter of [Guards]. I'll talk with my cousin and hire him and his idiot partner to protect Joey. As for the rest, I don't want to hear any drama in my bakery... However, if you can cause some drama at the Three Roses, Joey, you have my full support."

Before we can say anything else, Clodia asks, "what's the progress with the experiments?"

"Flaminia brought me here instead of working on it. So we have the barrels, but we have not started the experimentation yet."

"Oh, is that right?" Clodia says, taking out the huge wooden spoon from her pink apron.

...

After Clodia almost brained us both with the huge wooden spoon that I suspect she only uses to beat up people, we find a table for ourselves, and Flaminia takes out the barrels from the little pouch she's carrying. Magic, yeah. Cool. Whatever. Instead, I'd rather focus on the Elf called Violante, one of the [Bakers] at Happy Bakery. Now, I don't know if she discovered a special kind of yeast herself, but I can absolutely guarantee you that her backside has risen better than any organic mother yeast could ever do.

Flaminia is still talking my ears off. In fact, even though Clodia warned her about wasting time, she doesn't seem to care. Listen, I know she's coming from a good place. She's worried about me.

Plus, I'll be honest—should I actually bed this guy's sister just because he's a douche? Obviously not. Now, what I can do is the following: get acquainted with this woman, and see if she's my type. Nothing wrong with having a good time with someone you like, right?

Perhaps, I should learn some defensive magic, though, just in case the military wants to create problems.

Also, it's not like I have a real choice, do I? The book wants me to learn magic—well, to do my homework; otherwise, it will zap me.

"Do you have any honey?" I ask, looking at the woman.

"Yes... Joey, were you listening to me?"

"Nah. It was getting repetitive. Trust me, I will not get hurt, nor will I hurt the girl. The douche, perhaps. Only his feelings, though."

"Weren't you all in Lucinda's business before?"

"Sure," I say, smiling widely.

Flaminia looks at me, confused.

"I haven't married Lucinda, have I? Not yet, at least. Before we get acquainted on the nuptial bed, it's better if I get some Elven practice. I'm a stranger to your culture," I say the word 'culture' while wiggling my eyebrows.