As soon as the conversation between Claudius and I ends, the [Enchanter] takes out a little paintbrush and a chisel and turns his focus to the runes he came to maintain.

I would love to watch, but I’m burning daylight here. As I turn to Tiberius and Quintus, I ask them for the next piece of the jigsaw.

“Do you know where Truffles is?”

“What do you need him for?” Tiberius raises an eyebrow.

“Trust me,” I wink at them.

…

I have two muscles and one talent now. Guess what I’m missing?

Exactly.

Another talent.

I’ll send another prayer to Lorenzo later. Or even better. I’ll burn a pack of cannoli as a sacrifice to him.

Given how effective this treatment was, psychiatrists should also try slapping some sense into their patients sometimes.

As I walk with my escort through the homeless camp, I briefly wonder about the future. Amorium is a lovely city, alright? I don’t mind trying to integrate into the Elven community, honestly. From what I have heard so far, it appears that most Humans are engaged in slavery and all kinds of messed up things.

There are so many things that could go wrong, but there are also as many things that could go right. This spat with Flaminia is probably the best example of it. On the one hand, I understand. I truly do. It’s her and Clodia’s kitchen, not mine. I disrespected her. On the other hand, she was nasty. I get that she probably feels insecure, but… I crack my neck as we walk, taking a deep breath.

I’m sorry, Flam, I just can’t let this slide.

How she will take my lesson will decide whether I will still be able to put a foot inside Happy Bakery. If I go too far or not far enough, the thing will blow either way. But that’s life. My mother told me a thousand times that no matter what formula I try to concoct to get people around me to be my friends, at the end of the day, they can still screw it up on their part.

Sometimes, people are not ready for friendship.

And if they are not, it’s not up to me to fix them.

Well, it also depends on who’s them.

I look at Tiberius and Quintus and their sharp haircuts a-la-Peaky-Blinders.

Not everything is the same. Not everyone is the same. Trying to treat everyone with some kindness is good—but trying to treat everyone with the same degree of kindness is foolish.

Flaminia? She deserves a lesson but also a small break. We both messed up.

These people? I look around the homeless camp, seeing some of them clutching a bad foot or a limb that didn’t heal properly.

These people deserve the biggest of breaks. I could have snapped at Arminius and told him to get lost, right? I could have easily gone up to his face and reminded him that, at the end of the day, the big bad Human has at least someplace to sleep. But why do that?

Flaminia? I mean. If she pushed it to the extreme, I wouldn’t be opposed to screaming a little more in her face.

But Arminius? The guy was effed over by the military and doesn’t have anyone.

Try to be tolerant when you are in that situation, huh.

And, unlike him, some of these people are willing to give things another try with my help. I might not have been able to solve the homeless problem in NYC, but if there’s one thing Lorenzo taught me is to analyze my current environment.

When you mess with French chefs, there are DOs and DONTs. When you mess with the Italian ones, it’s the same thing but different habits. You must adapt to different kitchens and different people. You need to know how big of a role you can play somewhere and push against that boundary without breaking the gears.

Flaminia, for example, made a mistake when she was competing in speed with me the first time around. I knew very well that she would create a problem. And Clodia reprimanded her for that very reason.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

I am not delusional. I know I am not special.

But I also know that this is not NYC.

I might not have the capabilities to influence my old city, but I do have all the cards and necessary knowledge to succeed in a place stuck in the Middle Ages.

I crack my neck again.

It’s time to get back to work.

Tiberius points at a blonde guy sleeping against a tree with his mouth hanging open. There’s a slight dribble of saliva that is dropping down the side of his mouth as he sleeps like an angel.

Truffles wears a bunch of different colors, creating a weird mix, almost as if he was going to participate in the homeless version of the Carnival of Venice. But that doesn’t change the fact that the blondie is young, healthy, and handsome.

“Can I be honest with you?” I tell the two guys as we watch Truffles from a distance. “I don’t get it. With how young and good-looking he is, how come no old lady with a golden heart has offered him a job?”

“They have,” Quintus snorts.

“What?”

“They have,” Tiberius chimes in. “They offered him a variety of jobs. Truffles could have been out of here already.”

I look at the two with my eyebrows raised.

“What do you mean?”

“He won’t accept anything but an [Alchemist] job. He also got offered one. He said that he couldn’t read and he was not going to accept an apprenticeship contract. Truffles basically wants a job where he can play around with alchemical reagents. One [Alchemist] that has since moved cities tried to get him as an assistant of sorts; Truffles blew up a lot of that poor man’s resources.”

Jesus Almighty.

Nonetheless, not accepting predatory apprenticeships? A guy after my own heart.

“So, you are telling me he’s out here on a matter of principle?”

“You’ll find him starving himself at times,” Tiberius sighed. “Stan forces him to come to eat with us. And he has forbidden him from going outside the walls after he almost got himself killed twice. Grigio saved his life both times.”

Wow.

“Wait, Grigio, as in, the dog?”

Tiberius actually looks behind his shoulder before replying, “the dog is smarter than you think, Joey. And when Truffles gets shifty, Stan puts Grigio on the boy’s tracks.”

Damn.

“And you are absolutely sure that his sense of smell is actually that good, that the peg he carries around is not just for show?”

“We have tested him,” Quintus said. “We have worked with [Trackers] in the military, Joey. Both me and Tiberius. Truffles is better than a bloodhound.”

Walking up to the blondie, I rub my hands as my little plan finally slowly comes together.

“Truffles,” I gently wake him up with a tap on the shoulder.

“Huh?” The blonde reaches for his big wooden peg, as one would do with their glasses in the morning. But before putting it on, he gives the air a sniff and looks at me.

“The magic-sugar man.”

Again, I’d love it if a woman called me that, but I’ll take it.

“In person. A little bird told me that you love Alchemy.”

“Yes,” he nods, stretching.

“Well, I know Chemistry. I can teach you some stuff and give you money for ingredients as long as you help me figure out how to make some cheeses and do a little bit more work for me. What do you say?”

Truffles slowly gets up, yawning and looking warily at me. His peg is still in his hands instead of the two red spots on his nose that mark the heavy and improper usage he makes of the tool.

“Are you serious?”

I look behind me at Tiberius and Quintus.

“Joey is very serious. And he has the money to pay.”

“Which you’d need to buy the alchemical reagents,” I add.

“How much money?” Truffles frowns.

“Five golds for you, Tiberius, and Quintus. Five each. That’s for a couple of hours of work.”

Truffles’ eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

“Is he serious?”

Tiberius takes out the money I just gave them.

“But—”

“No contract either,” Quintus adds, anticipating Truffles’ question.

“But how can you trust us with no contract? Five-hundred silver for a few hours of work with cheese and…”

“And something that I’d like to keep secret. But it’s nothing illegal, and you can back out at any given moment.”

“What is chemistry?”

Got him.

“Chemistry is the study of what substances matter is composed of, and the investigation of their properties and reactions in isolation, or to make new substances. I can tell you how to make soap, for instance. You’ll have to forgive me, but my memory is not what it used to be. Soap, smoke bombs, and much more. I can teach you the principles of chemistry. And how to read. And give you money.”

Why be so direct?

Tiberius and Quintus are your average, diffident normal people. You need a point of contact like our bouts of sparring or me being beaten up by Arminius. But Truffles? Our first interaction gave me a very good idea of what I’m working with. Being direct with my offer and not muddying the waters is my best option to get to him.

“You know how to make soap?” Truffles’s eyes go wide, ignoring everything else I just said.

“Oh, yeah, it’s much easier than most would think. It just takes a long time—but tell you what. I’ll not only teach you how to make soap. I’ll help you experiment with alchemical reagents to make the reaction faster. I’m sure we can work out something together. See, I’m not a [Baker], but I’m a very good Baker. And I happen to have a decent knowledge of chemical reactions. You put the a- in front of chemical, and we can work out something really cool together.”

“Joey,” I hear Tiberius’s worried voice from the back. “If you manage to make soap, don’t try to sell it. [Merchants] have a monopoly on that, and they really don’t like it when someone tries to figure it out. They have [Alchemists] sign contracts to ensure they don’t produce too much soap. When an [Alchemist] refuses to comply, they stop selling reagents to them.”

“They are never going to make soap, Tiberius; come on. Let them play,” Quintus elbows his friends in the stomach.

Play?

I snort.

“So, my friend,” I look at Truffles as he’s deep in his thoughts. “What do you say?”

His piercing green eyes look straight at me with determination I have not seen since I came to Amorium.

“I accept.”

I smile at Tiberius and Quintus, full of mischief.

“Well, one last stop, and then, we visit the market together.”

“Where?”

“What do you mean where,” I smile at the two [Soldiers]. “To Stan, of course!”