The acceleration is created by the casting speed as well. And when you trace a line slower, you are effectively creating a funnel for the magic you are tracing after that, meaning that the kinetic force comes from the direction you cast from. Sure, I had already assessed that before. However, this glaring confirmation still makes me wonder what else I’ve been missing about casting.
And why hasn’t the book explained these fundamental concepts to me before?
Creating a vacuum with a slower cast at the beginning and filling that vacuum with an exponential acceleration made the [Light] travel at an insane speed, and it was super-smooth.
Now, this would have been quite a success if it wasn’t for the big hole in my wall and my door bursting open. Sadly, I don’t think my visitor will see it as a success.
“What is that?” Agostina, my terrifying landlady, stares balefully at me as she points at the wall in abject terror.
“A hole?” I smile.
“A hole?”
“A big, bad hole,” I nod.
“You put a hole in my wall?” she shouts.
“Yep,” I say while clicking my tongue.
“This idiot put a hole in my wall,” she stares at it, uncomprehending. Some magic shines at the tip of her fingers.
“You know, sometimes it happens.”
“Holes? Are you saying that holes happen?”
She’s probably considering whether to turn me into a succulent.
“Well, let’s not dismiss that as if it was so stupid. Maybe there are some wood-eating bugs that—”
“You better tell Clodia that I’m having her pay through the nose for that!” she says before slamming the door behind her.
I’m about to sigh in relief when she opens the door again.
“And if you damage my property again, Luciani, I’ll poison your damn tea and have you drink it through your ears. Is that clear?”
“Aye, madame,” I stand to attention like a soldier.
“Humans,” she spits before slamming the door again.
Well, that wasn’t the most pleasant exchange, was it?
I must admit, though, I did put a very conspicuous hole – the size of a baseball – in the wall. It’s hard not to notice it when you enter the apartment.
I do need to practice my magic somewhere else, don’t I?
A training ground of sorts or—
Someone knocks on my door.
“Luciani! You have a visitor!” my landlady shouts from the other side of the door.
Lucillus is almost thrown at me by my landlady, who shuts the door right after.
“Joey,” Lucillus looks at me with a grave expression.
“What’s up?” I smile at him.
“Many things have been up, Human. I have made a decision for Antoninus and me. We are not fit to be your bodyguards. You would have been better serviced by someone with specialized skills. [Bodyguards] won't be cheap, but they would have brought you out of that situation."
I stare into Lucillus’s green eyes with surprise.
“What?”
“We should have predicted Appius provoking you. I should have stayed by your side instead of confronting the idiots. In hindsight, it was a pretty straightforward ploy. They lured me away from you, and you did something stupid after being provoked. But it’s my responsibility. I should have seen that coming—that’s why I am not fit to be your [Guard].”
“My man,” I tell Lucillus, “you are blowing this way out of proportion. It’s my fault as much as it might be yours. I—”
I can’t say that I could have learned some magic to handle the situation, I suppose.
“Those [Soldiers] could have killed you, Joey.”
I look at the tome resting on my bed and then at the hole in my wall before turning to Lucillus. The Elf is slightly taller than me—something like half an inch. I stare into his eyes and take the most serious stance.
“Lucillus, the next time they provoke me, I’ll take care of it. But I want you and Antoninus by my side. You have great morals and ethics. I don’t care about your skills and class—I'm sure you can work on that. Your moral cloth, though? That's hard to find around and about.”
“You don’t seem to understand, Human—”
“Sit,” I push him towards a chair. “And call me Joey. Drop this Human thing; it’s getting annoying and disrespectful. I’m a person, Lucillus, just like you or Antoninus. You could be a Human for all I care. I judge people based on their character, not by the shape of their ears.”
Caught by surprise by my solemnity, Lucillus actually sits down and looks at me dejectedly.
As Lucillus sits in the chair, the room around us becomes alive. The wind smashes the curtains back and forth. I can hear a distant shout too. I’ve never noticed it before, but my room could be better lit.
Well, I can take care of that.
I cast some [Lights], letting them hang around in the air.
He doesn't speak out immediately, too busy with brooding.
There's tension in the air, and I can feel the weight of Lucillus’s words hanging over us. I know he’s right – those soldiers could have killed me. But I also know that I can’t let fear control me. I can’t let the stupid [Soldiers] win.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
The greater battle against my problems starts here. And if I want to win the war, I need the right people by my side.
“Lucillus,” I say softly, “you're already pretty good at your job. Truffles and I screwed it up for you. And the next time they provoke me...” I let out a small chuckle. “Well, let’s just say I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
I'm actually quite afraid that he could be scared away. But, on the other hand, I fear much less for my life after putting a baseball-sized hole in the wall.
"Are you sure, Joey? Even while knowing you could get hurt? Why don't you pay some [Bodyguards] instead? Clodia would do that for you, I'm sure. It's not like this is much cheaper."
"Because I'm not really about the money, but more about the people. If you think we should, we can also hire [Bodyguards]. I certainly don't fancy being stabbed to death in a dark alley. But if it's just that you don't feel great about a few punches and kicks... don't worry. Do you want to drink something? I have some water or juice."
"No, thank you. I've also come because [Captain] Drusillus wants to talk to you. We should go to the Watch."
"Sure, but let's do that later. Water or juice? I have some wine too, but I have yet to taste it. It could be bad."
"Water is fine," Lucillus sighs.
“I’ll make some food while we chat,” I tell him, putting a pan on the stove and pouring water from the waterskin I keep inside my bag. “Some simple pasta, nothing fancy. But at least we’ll have a full stomach. And what does your [Captain] want to talk about anyway?"
"[Captain] Drusillus has read mine and Antoninus’s report about the other night. He said he wants to talk with you."
"Is it, like, an obligation? Or is it more like a proposal?"
"The [Captain] is very particular; he used to be a Named Adventurer and has made many changes to the Watch. So even though he didn't order me to bring you to him, it's better if you just go."
I shrug.
"Sure."
"Why'd you come all this way just to tell me you’re quitting the job?" I ask, my tone relaxed as I move to the countertop.
"It's not like I don't want to do it," Lucillus sighs, his voice heavy with emotion. "I just keep thinking I should be doing more. I wish I could be a better [Guard], and I don't want to hold onto this cushy job just because we're friends. Someone more qualified could be protecting you instead," he explains, his voice strained.
The big, bad Lucillus is brooding openly, a rare sight for someone so emotionally closed off. He's even more troubled than Clodia, and I can't help but wonder what demons he's battling.
"Live and learn," I tell the man. But, unfortunately, there's only so much I can say to make it better.
“Now, what’s going on with you and the [Soldiers]?" I ask instead. "You seemed very riled up before the whole fight went down. Is it just bad blood between them and the Watch?”
Lucillus looks at me with an inkling of frustration before replying.
“I don’t like [Soldiers]. The requirements to become one of them are often arbitrary, and their whole structure is rotten. I tried becoming an [Officer] with their training, but I just couldn’t get the levels because their teaching was abysmal.”
I chop almost two pounds of tomatoes and several cloves of garlic before placing them in a pot. I found a variety of tomatoes with extremely thin skin and soft innards that make them turn into a paste if you cook them enough.
In another pan, I place quite a bit of olive oil as I start cutting up some lidulae, a more savory equivalent of eggplant that the Elves are very fond of. I let the tomatoes cook as I cut the lidulae into long sheets. They are much more similar to zucchini in shape than the oblong form of eggplants.
“You tried becoming an [Officer], they did something to keep you out, and you don’t like [Soldiers] now. Fair enough,” I suddenly say after a few minutes of silence.
“They hated my parents,” Lucillus starts, “I never did anything. But my parents were pro-Humans. Their fellow [Sergeants] didn’t like that, and they never got any further. My parents were outstanding soldiers but driven mad by the military. Sometimes, I wonder if my parents made it harder for me to get into their same line of work. Maybe they thought I’d be as miserable as them if they did.”
“Are your parents still around?” I ask with my back turned as I start frying the lidulae and put the pot of water on another rune to boil.
“They drank themselves to death. Both of them.”
I look over my shoulder to see Lucillus staring at the wall angrily.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
Does everyone here have a Batman background? Clodia’s father killed himself. I’m pretty sure Flaminia’s parents are out of the picture as well. Truffles was seemingly abandoned. Holy... Does anyone have both of their parents still alive? Does that even happen here?
“I’m sorry,” I say with a sigh. “My parents are dead too. Do you know what cancer is?”
“Is that a Human poison? It sounds familiar.”
I snort.
“No, no. It’s a disease. Your body revolts against you. Then, slowly, your organs start failing, and you die. It’s one of the things that still kills a lot of people where I come from.”
“That sounds terrible.”
After a beat, Lucillus adds, “I’m sorry about your parents.”
I nod to myself as I deep fry the stripes of lidulae and stir the tomato sauce, adding a few basil leaves.
“What’s most interesting about life is that once our parents go, we keep carrying all the baggage they caused us while they were still alive,” I say, “I loved my mother to death. More than most people will ever understand. But neither she nor my father always supported me. So, I thought that once they died, the good and the bad things they did to me would go away. Sure, I’d lose them, but maybe some of the scars formed over the years would also disappear. My mother, for all I loved her, wasn't a saint, let's say.”
I pause for a second, taking out a piece of solid, salty cheese and giving it a smell to make sure it’s the right one.
“Turns out,” I say while cutting a small piece of the cheese and passing it to Lucillus, “I was sorely wrong. When your parents die, all the good stuff disappears. But sadly, all the bad stuff sticks with us until we somehow work it out. I think that’s why people mostly prefer to keep the good memories of their parents. When they are left with harsh problems and festering wounds, it’s much easier to think about the good stuff to use as a small dose of painkillers.
“Because if you immerse yourself in all that you are left to face alone, having also to shatter their perfect image, you are left in a world full of monsters. For the most part, it’s better to carry some baggage and never look back. It’s definitely easier to live that way... can you tell me if you like that cheese?”
Lucillus takes a bite of the cheese I passed him and nods.
“Is this Salatum? I didn’t take you for a person who would enjoy it. Antoninus loves this stuff.
“Yep. It reminds me of a type of cheese my mother used to love, and I need it for this pasta. I’ll grate some on top.”
I turn to ensure everything is going well and finish frying the lidulae before Lucillus asks, “were you talking about me a moment ago? That thing about parents?”
“I don’t know if you are the same. I was mostly talking about myself,” I say over my shoulder.
...
“What’s this called again?” Lucillus asks while shoveling food into his mouth.
“Pasta alla Norma is the official name. It was an homage to a music composer’s work,” I say while forking some pasta in my mouth. “The recipe is pretty simple. First, some fresh tomatoes for the sauce, with lots of garlic and basil. Let the pasta cook in the sauce for the last minute or two. Then, grate some of the salted cheese after placing the fried eggplant stripes on it—in this case, I’d rename the dish to Pasta alla Elfa, meaning ‘Pasta in the Elven way' where 'Elfa' is the feminine version of Elf.”
Lucillus scarfs down the pasta as he keeps shooting weird looks at me.
“This is extremely simple and tasty. But don’t high-level [Chefs] tend to use many ingredients?”
Man, I wish I had those Lorenzo hands in moments like these.
“It depends on the recipe. Some cultures have made their spice mixes their forte. Others, instead, look for fresh produce and improve their cooking techniques. More ingredients do not make the job harder or the taste better. It’s just more ingredients.”
Seeing the sadness in his eyes at already finishing his serving, I shovel some more pasta from the pot into his plate. I made extra, just in case.
“By the way,” I ask Lucillus, “where did Stan go during the fight? I immediately lost sight of him.”
The [Guard] nods distractedly, trying to take his attention away from the food.
“I had to admit in the report that I have no idea where he ended up. I saw him at the Pratus in his usual spot today. But rot knows where he went that night. Better this way. At least his dog didn’t kill anyone. That would have been a problem.”
I bite into my pasta as I think about the gigantic Elf.
How did a seven-something-foot-tall Elf just disappear like that? And if he’s a secret expert, how come he didn’t help?
Wait.
Is Lady Luck trying to rope me in some quest?
To hell with it; I have more important things to think about!