“I would first put a lance through my neck than accept food touched by your dirty hands, worm.”

Well, well, well.

Am I going to be American History X-ed here?

But right when I think they are going to close on me and beat the living hell out of my body, I hear a low growl and remember there’s a massive dog-wolf by my side.

“Friends,” Stan speaks slowly, but there’s a clear edge in his voice, “are you willing to resort to violence and force your command to clash with the Watch? You know very well that not even military people can get out of causing sheer violence unscathed.”

I swallow some saliva, hoping that what the tall Elf just said is a good-enough deterrent for these meatheads.

“Appius, what do we do?” The fat [Soldier] with red spots all over his face looks with a worried expression at the clear leader of his group.

Now, Appius looks like a jacked version of Smeagol crossed with the guy who poisoned Théoden’s mind. What was his name again? But yeah, you get the idea. Jet black hair in clumps, some missing, possibly from a grievous wound. He looks pale and sickly but, most of all, feral.

“Are you defending worms now, grandpa?” Appius snarls.

“Have you even seen where you all are standing? Do you have no shame?” Stan’s voice becomes harsher now.

“Look above your heads, you unsophisticated children.”

“What?” Clementius looks up, but instead of staring at the massive statue behind us, he’s staring at the sky. “Is it going to rain?”

“The statue, Clementius,” Appius slaps the other guy’s back. “That’s Vespasianus.”

“[Prince] Vespasianus,” Stan’s voice has the slightest tinge of anger, like when I asked him if the Human girl who gave him his name was hot.

“Oh, that idi—”

I have no idea what is happening now, but in the next millisecond, in the time it took me to blink, Grigio is upon Appius, with his jaw around the man’s neck.

“Finish your sentence,” Stan says. “It will be considered treason, punished by execution. Please, go ahead.”

I think one of the two soldiers, the thinner guy with a huge nose, just quite literally pissed himself.

“I—I,” Appius stutters.

“You are a [Soldier] of the Kingdom of Lucerna. You just insulted its greatest [Prince]—the only [Great Prince] we had ever been blessed with. It will be reported to your superiors. I’ll go talk to the Watch myself.”

Taking what seems an eternity, Grigio slowly releases Appius’s saliva-covered neck and earns himself a few pats from Stan.

Wow.

That dog-wolf is seriously dangerous.

“Wow, thank you, Grigio—” As I am about to pet him, the massive thing snaps his jaws at me.

“Son of a...” I jump back. Damn, what did I do, huh?

By now, Appius is back on his feet and looking at me with absolute murder in his eyes. But he also looks at Grigio, knowing that he could have been dead right then and there.

“Let’s go,” he snarls to his two goons, retreating.

As we watch them go away, Stan looks at me and sighs.

“You should be careful. They will come again. Next time, I might not be there, friend.”

First of all, did he actually say ‘unsophisticated children’ before? Is a homeless supposed to talk like that? My ‘this guy is a secret expert’ alarm is pinging me like crazy right now.

“I’ll be careful; don’t worry,” My lips stretch into a grin as I look at Stan. “Are there that many people like them? Like, how does one get to that point?”

I’d rather not admit it, but this is getting a little bit under my skin. Maybe because of what happened this morning, but... I don’t know. I would have preferred to receive this huge amount of excrement in installments instead of all in a single day.

Stan has not answered my question, by the way. He’s simply staring at the massive statue above his head.

I had never paid much attention to it, but now, I stare as well. We stand before a statue of a young Elven[Prince] carved from gleaming white marble. The guy is tall and proud, with elegant features chiseled with precision. His long, flowing hair is caught in a gentle breeze, and his slender hands rest lightly on the pommel of his sword. Despite the cold, lifeless nature of the marble, the statue seems to exude an air of regal strength and grace.

Honestly, I feel intimidated the more I look at it. What’s really freakish is the eyes. Whoever carved it did an insane job.

The statue’s piercing gaze looks out into the distance as if gazing into the future and seeing the great deeds yet to come.

I probably shouldn’t ask who the figure was nor what this [Prince] represents to Stan. It seems like it would most definitely trigger the main quest of this story. And you know what I’m about.

Buns and buns.

“Let’s go give this bread to the others,” I say to the old Elf.

...

We distributed the bread with the help of Tiberius and Quintus. Everyone was wary initially, but they soon bit into it and actually looked thankful for it.

As everyone is ravenously tearing through the failed copies of Altamura bread, I sit in silence on a log they have placed on the ground. It’s not one of the long ones; more like a one-man log.

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Some Elves are really racist, aren’t they? I mean, it appears they have a good reason to be, at the very least. I wonder if Native American people really refer to white people as the ‘white devils’ like in the movies? What happened here seems like the two populations tried living together, but the Humans tried messing with the Elves.

But who came first?

Huh.

Well, maybe it’s not like the Native Americans.

I don’t want this to come out the wrong way, but I quite literally come from another world; how come I get the speciesism, huh? Could I claim I’m not actually a proper Human? I mean, what’s a Human even? I’m sure that a truth-stone would say that I was right if I objected to the label. Especially if you consider that these days, you can pretty much identify as whatever you want.

“Joey,” Tiberius walks up to me, and I stand as a reflex, offering him my one-man log.

“Wanna sit?”

“No, no. Don’t worry. My body probably works better than yours. I still have my skills. I came to thank you. You brought enough food to have everyone sleep with a full stomach tonight. And that bread is really special.”

“Nope. This is the failed version. I only had one loaf of the actual, successfully-executed bread. It took a hundred loaves to get one. You got the other ninety-nine. When we scale up the production, you’ll get a bread allotment daily, though, don’t worry.”

“Joey... why do you do this?” The man raises the piece of bread he is holding in his hands. “First, the hair, and now, all this food? Why?”

“I don’t know? Maybe because my mother certainly went to Heaven, and I’m just farming karma points? Who can say for sure?”

As I end my joke, I realize that Tiberius doesn’t know what Heaven is. Right.

“It was a Human joke, never mind. I don’t know; I live to cook, help, and get some hot girls. I try to make my life simple. If I can help someone who’s facing hardships, I’ll do it. See, I’m actually not that great because I’m not big into investing myself in the ventures of other people and stuff like that. I mean, it’s just that I’m never going through that much paperwork, maybe?”

I see Tiberius is clearly confused by what I’m saying.

“I like to help, that’s all.”

“Even Elves?”

There’s a hint of surprise in Tiberius’s question. If I hadn’t understood why before, after the previous harassment, I can certainly see why now. If someone gets their face kicked on a curb, they won’t really develop positive feelings toward Elves, would they?

“I mean, I can kind of only help Elves here, can’t I? I have yet to see another Human in the city.”

“Amorium is in the South; Teiko is beyond the ocean on the North of the continent. You’d probably see a Vanedeni before you see a Human here.”

“Wait, are these Vanedeni humans?”

And could I claim to be a Vanedeni? If their main characteristic is an above-average male reproductive organ, then I could surely pass as one.

Tiberius scratches his head, actually thinking about the question.

“Maybe? They look like you. They are just crazy Humans, I think. Never really bothered with studying them. Let the Ahali deal with those madmen.”

Huh.

You know what?

This sounds like a side-quests, after all.

Does this world really want me to do crazy stuff?

Well, bad luck, Lady Luck, I ain’t doing it!

As I stand there, considering Tiberius's words, I notice a blonde man staring at me from behind a tree in the distance. "Who's that?" I ask Tiberius, pointing in the man's direction.

"Oh, that's Truffles," Tiberius replies. "He tends to wander off sometimes. Rotten roots, I need to tell Stan. The guards are supposed to keep an eye on him. The last time they let him out, he almost killed himself following one of his stupid scent trails."

“Scent trails?”

Damn! They got me!

My curiosity got the best part of me. What a cruel mistress you are, Lady Luck. Cracking your whip on my back and pushing your pointy heels into my chest. I shouldn’t accept this side quest, but I could really use someone called Truffles if he can spot his homonym fungi.

"Yeah, Truffles is a bit odd," Tiberius says. "He's probably around your age. We're not sure, but we think his parents abandoned him when they thought there was no future for him.

“Damn, that sounds rough.”

“Stan took him in when he didn’t know where to go. The guy was just crying out loud in the park. He’s with us, and we all try to help him; to be honest, he could probably be out of here if he wanted. But he has this idea that he can smell rare ingredients or something and that he’s an [Alchemist]. The first time someone tried one of his concoctions, they puked for an entire day. The second time, they shat themselves so bad we had to call a [Healer]. So far, there’s been no third time. We are convinced the person trying one of his potions will erupt from both ends.”

Tiberius adds some air commas at ‘potions.’

“Wait. Is the guy’s name Truffles?”

“We tested him with a truth-stone. Even if it’s not, he actually believes it is.”

Jesus.

“Wait, you have truffles around here, as in the edible fungi fruits?”

“Yes. He can actually spot those if you believe it. He’s gotten himself in trouble more than a few times while trying to dig some of them from the Valerii forest.”

Damn.

If I could get my hands on some truffles, I could make so many great dishes. I bet Lucinda would definitely forget about me not wanting to become a [Mage] if she tasted my amazing tagliatelle with truffles and mushrooms.

I rub my hands as I get up and start walking toward Truffles.

However, as soon as he sees me getting up, he turns and runs away.

“Huh?”

I stare at the blonde guy just running away, disappearing between the trees. As I turn, I’m suddenly facing Stan.

“Jesus,” I say, clutching my chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Friend, do you need help with something? Why were you following Truffles?”

“Stan, just call me Joey. Come on. And nothing, really. I just wanted to say hi.”

“You are a young marvel of Amorium, Joey. But I will call you what I choose to, Child. And that’s because of your disposition.”

“What’s the matter with you?” I ask with a scrunched-up face. “Meh. Listen up, can you get me to Truffles? Tiberius was telling me about him. If he can help me find some actual truffles, that’d be great.”

“Truffles is a troubled child, Joey. I am unsure how he should be managed. Please, do not play into his delusional fantasies.”

“Yeah, Tiberius was telling me about the [Alchemist] thing. He poisoned a few people, huh?”

Stan nods gravely.

“He has a pure heart, but he does not understand the boundaries that we need in order to live peacefully. The second time around, he fed one of his potions to a guy by simply putting it in his food.”

“That’s funny,” I snort.

“It wouldn’t have been that funny if he had killed him,” Stan says with a scolding tone. “I tried teaching him, but it’s hard. I have not much experience with people like him, I must admit.”

"People like him?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Is he strange or something?"

"He's very stubborn," Stan replies, his voice serious. "Incredibly so. I've rarely met someone as upfront and determined as him. But he also struggles to communicate with others."

"Interesting," I say, glancing at the tree where Truffles had been hiding. "I'd still like to meet him if he can really smell out truffles. I have plenty of recipes I'd like to try using that method."

"Joey," Stan warns, his voice stern. "I'm not telling you not to be his friend, but please, don't encourage his delusions."

"Okay," I nod, understanding the concern. "But can he really smell out truffles?"

The giant Elf sighs, nodding.

"It seems so. Not even Grigio can do that. But I've seen Truffles come back with them or try to trade them for alchemical reagents."

“That’s so cool,” I say, rubbing my hands together.

So many recipes to try!

I walk back to my one-man log and sit with my face resting in my palms.

I’m a bit tired, to be honest.

I slump down on my log, exhausted. My eyes drift over to an Elf who is staring at me with a fierce expression. He doesn't seem to be enjoying the bread that the others are dipping into their stew.

Is that the guy who screamed at me when I was cutting hair? Or... something?

I look at the luscious grass on the ground to avoid his gaze and distract myself. And suddenly, it comes to me that with all these people walking around, it shouldn’t be this green. Actually, it should become mud. There’s a reason most cities ask you not to walk on the grass. If you are constantly walking back and forth on it, it’ll become mush. And that’s not very appealing.

But as I look around, there’s no patch of grass that’s ruined or even slightly spoiled by the presence of so many people.

On the contrary, the grass that covers the ‘path’ to the center of the Pratus, something that most people walk on pretty much every day, is absolutely perfect.

Personally, I would feel better if there was more mud around here. There’s something about the perfect green carpet in front of my eyes that is really bothering me.

But whatever. Grass or no grass – all the same, I suppose.