Casual Heroing

Original Length: 956 words.

Post Revision Length: 1256 words.

“You better not try anything weird, mage,” one of two tall guards said, the one with light green eyes and an evident fun deficiency. We are walking toward their headquarter, or at least that’s what they told me.

“Mage?” I ask, confused.

“Yeah, isn’t that a spellbook?” the green-eyed guard pointed at my murderous tome.

“Oh, this bad boy, here. I think so? But I’m not a mage. I’m just… Sort of carrying it around?” I try a goofy smile, but I only get two icy stares in return.

Tough crowd.

Man, I hate Elves so much.

I don’t, like, hate, hate, but they are an overused cliché in fiction, and now, in real life, too, it seems. I would have accepted a body-built lizard and a talking ant as the welcome committee in this new world, but Elves… I don’t know. There’s something infuriating in hearing women go crazy about Orlando Bloom in a blonde wig that has left me a dramatic contempt for this species.

God, I wonder if they would disintegrate after touching this goddamn book like the chirping bird. Could that be considered murder? Am I sure I want to eat broccoli in their prisons until the end of my days? But Jesus, it’s so heavy! Can’t one of them offer to carry it for me? I mean, they either get blasted into nothing, and I go to jail for life, or, second-best case, I don’t get cramps in my arms. It’s a win-win situation.

Or would I get executed? Do Elves have the death penalty?

“So… How does this work? What are you taking me in for, being a bit too handsome?” again, I try irony, but I know the joke is more for my sake than theirs.

“You need to undergo an interview before you can receive an official city pass. We usually conduct this thing at the gate, but since you look like a mage, you are going to get interrogated by another person versed in magic in case you were hiding something dangerous.”

I mean, at least they explain things clearly, don’t they?

In the meanwhile, I look around. I’m in a pretty big city, aren’t I? If the two armored brutes at my sides weren’t pushing me around, I would have enjoyed the sight. Despite being a medieval place, it looks clean.

Damn Elves and their clean streets. They ruined the authentic medieval experience of shit pouring down the curbs.

“Is the person interviewing me a man or a woman?” I ask with a cheeky tone.

“Why do you care?” one of the two brutes grumbles.

“Gotta find out whether or not I need to take out a big loan for some jewelry,” I smile. “Isn’t that how you court women in medieval times, jewelry?”

“In what times?” they both seem very confused by the use of the adjective.

“I meant, even if you are Elves, you do still have to court women to make babies, don’t you?”

“You want to court a female Elf?” they both narrow their eyes and put their hands closer to the hilts of their swords.

One of them has a spear on his back. Maybe I’ll become a human kebab before the end of the day; who knows what Lady Luck is setting up for me.

“Sure, why not, and even more than one, I’d say!” I smile.

There is probably some big taboo about this if they are at war with humans. I don’t really care, though. If there are cute Elven women, why not try to woo one or two?

“What’s your name, human?” one of them grabs my shoulder and pushes me forward. Not the friendliest of shoves.

“Joey Luciani, Italian ancestry if that earns me points with the ladies,” I smile at both, and I get the feeling that being skewered is getting closer than I thought.

“Never heard of the Luciani Family, Lucillus,” the first guard tells the green-eyed one.

“Because you don’t study the notes the Captain gives us on the stupid humans,” Lucillus grumbles.

“So, you know the Luciani family, Lucillus?” the grizzly guard asks.

The aforementioned Lucillus, the green-eyed guard, simply stays silent at the question, brooding.

“You don’t?” the burly man sighs and fishes a snack out of a pocket, smirking at his pal.

“I could have! At least I read the notes!”

“Well, might as well start reading books if they want me to read those goddamn poems the Captain loves to write.”

Illiterate Elves. Interesting.

One myth busted.

Still hate them.

Not as much as French people, but I still do.

“Antoninus, Captain Drusillus will have your ears chopped off if you don’t start studying,” Lucillus said.

Wait a second. Are those Latin names?

Elves with Ancient Roman names. What the—

“You, Luciani, what’s your business here in Amorium?” Lucillus shoots a new question, this time at me.

Amorium? What a weird name. And Elves doing an Ancient Roman cosplay? Just terrible. But I wonder, will the women be wearing some cute tunics? I crane my neck around, but the guards block most of my view.

“No idea, pal. I kind of found myself in the area,” I say while still straining to look around for the fair sex, “I’m not in for funny business, though. However, I might have to find myself a job since my funds… are not available to me at the moment.”

“You an adventurer?” Antoninus, the illiterate brute, asks.

“A what?” I have no idea what an adventurer is.

“An adventurer. Taking missions, teams, Dungeon diving, saving people, and so on.”

Is this some kind of a DnD setting where you take up quests to exterminate monsters for money? And no, I don’t play DnD. I did listen to a funny podcast-like experience of voice actors playing DnD, but I was never into it enough to try it myself – plus, I used that to while away time during the graveyard shifts or the most boring moments in the bakery. There’s something virginity-inducing in playing with make-believe stories that has always kept me from finding my own group.

“Nah, I’m a baker.”

“A baker with a spell-book?” Lucillus stares hard at me. So hard I start to think he wants to bare my soul naked or something. Or maybe he plays for the other team. Well, not your lucky day, Lucillus; I play for the skirt-chasing team. Unless… I try picturing Lucillus with a skirt, but I only get rewarded with shivers.

Oh God, why did I even try to picture that?

I shiver once again.

Both guards look at me funny, still waiting for an answer.

“Gotta make a living somehow. I might be able to innovate a bit with some magic,” I shrug.

“And what classes do you have? You will not be asked to reveal your levels, but you will be asked to reveal your classes under truth stone. If you do possess dangerous classes, you will face charges as soon as we find them.”

“Classes?” I stare ahead without understanding the question.

“Yeah, classes,” Lucillus replies as if he said the most natural thing in the world.

Right, those voice actors had classes and levels, didn’t they?

Oh, I probably will have to reveal that I have no class.

Huh, that might make those gentlemen quite suspicious. Alas, I do not have much choice, do I?

“No classes, friends,” I give them the brightest smile. My cheeks are straining so much that I might get facial paralysis before I wrap it up.