Casual Heroing

Do you ever ask yourself whether stealing crutches from a disabled person is morally wrong or not?

You might think it’s a silly question, but is it, really? Because, when you think about the dignity of a disabled person, you have to do to them what you would to to others. It’s like the same principle the church peddles around. How is it, like, ‘don’t do to others what others shouldn’t do to you?’ Was it like that? Well, close enough. But if others shouldn’t do to you what you shouldn’t do to them, then you should do to them what they—

I frown while looking at Anneus crutches with great intensity. I think I lost the thread of my thoughts there. The point is, would I do this to a non-disabled person? Probably. Would that, doing it to a non-disabled person, be a douche move? Just a prank. But are pranks something that douchy people do?

The more I think about it, the more this is a moral conundrum. Is there any Jordan Peterson video that tells you whether pranking people is funny or abusive?

“What are you looking at?” Anneus asks, moving his crutches from between us to his side of the couch.

“Who, me?” I reply innocently. “Just admiring your hunky forms, dear.”

“Joey,” Marcellus complains, “we have to finish our part of the research for the essay. Zahra and Sabina are still mad with you.”

“Mad?”

“Jealous because you are better at magic than them,” Anneus sighs.

“It’s natural for girls to be jealous of men,” Amelia chimes in.

“What?” I’m still confused. “They are jealous because I’m a professor and a student, or something like that? Well, I mean, I don’t really understand the point, but I guess I understand the perspective.”

“You are very good at Cantrips,” Alba says shyly. “That makes me jealous as well.”

“I also had to negotiate my right to stay alive with a bunch of power-hungry [Archmages] who might turn their back on me at any time.”

“Poor you,” Anneus says.

“Shall we go back to the research?” Marcellus pleads.

“Come on, Marcy, this is funnier,” I smile.

“Let’s go back to the research,” Anneus points.

“Whatever. I sent some inquiries to the royal family, but I didn’t get any reply. Bastards. I mean, what’s the point of knowing the [Princess] if you can’t even get some private interview?”

“So, [Professor] Aliuna wants us to come to a synthesis of opinions on the conflict and try to give a fresh point of view of what happened,” Marcellus intercepts the conversation once again.

“[Professor] Aliuna is a very good teacher,” Amelia nods along.

“Very hot teacher,” I add.

“I’m getting a bit hungry,” Alba, our big ahali friend, says while looking wistfully at my pantry. She’s a big fun of biscotti.

“Coffee break,” I clap my hands and get up from the couch. There are a few weak protests, but our group has already split in the productive and unproductive halves. I like to think that our half is the one getting good food and enjoying themselves.

“Coffee,” Anneus raises his mug and smiles.

The disabled bastard doesn’t even get up from the couch with the excuse of his crutches. And trust me, if you could see his sly smile, you wouldn’t be happy about it either. But what can you do, tell him to get up and get it himself? That would be—what’s the term for that? Ableist? Is ‘ableist’ the right term? Is it ableist to define him as a ‘disabled bastard’? Hell, might be.

While I, Joey, pour some hot Joe inside Anneus’s cup, I look around the room, finding Alba and Amelia hunched over some kind of dress that the latter has stitched for the big Ahali. Apparently, it’s very hard for Alba to find clothes that fit her size even at the Nine Towers Academy citadel. She’s as big as a half-giant, but her body is more slender and less bulky on the upper half. Her legs are also much longer than a normal person’s. all of that makes it a bit hard to find things that fit her properly.

“Joey, do you mind if I bring Alba upstairs for a second and fit her inside this?” Amelia raises the dress and asks me.

Mmm. Is there anything radioactive or anything that might explode upstairs?

“I think it should be safe.”

Amelia drags Alba upstairs as soon as the words leave my mouth.

I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s safe. I don’t really remember what I did yesterday.

“Fuck, Joey!” Anneus swears as the coffee overflows from the cup and spills on him and on the couch.

“Oh come on, we have [Cleansing] wands,” I scoff, “what’s all the fuss.”

“Repeated use of [Cleansing] wands might weaken the fabric of clothes and furniture,” Marcellus says.

“Do you want to sleep outside, tonight?” I ask to my non-paying tenant. “Fetch some biscotti, come on.”

…

As I lay down on my couch, on the verge of dozing off after hours spent on research during the weekend, I look at a figure looming in front of me.

“I should remove your signature from the wards,” I tell Robin while yawning.

“I have news,” he says while eyeing the pantry.

“Oh God, is everyone coming here just for the biscotti?”

“You should open a shop around here, it would make a killing.”

“Still taking care of the business in Amorium. Goddamn Goblin has bought more land in my name. He’s building the park now. I swear, I can’t even find my room anymore when I go over there.”

“Are you still using the [Princess]’s magic to move around?”

“Go take your biscotti. I un-trapped the pantry after Marcellus almost lost a hand. People can’t take a joke anymore. Also, I should start working on the poison wards. Did you fetch me the texts?”

“Yes. I have them with me,” Robis says while loading a plate with a veritable pound of biscotti, “but I’m not here because of that. I have news. Lots of news. You asked me to check out the owners of the Baguetterie, right?”

“The what?”

“The famous bakery,” he replies.

“Oh, right.”

“It has ties to the disaster the mysterious battles that went down on Carilia,” he hands down a stack of papers to me.

“Wait, which continent is Carilia again?”

“The multi-cultural on,” Robis sighs, now used to questions like this one.

“Right, right. The big one. So, Cassandre has ties to that?”

“Not exactly. There are rumors of it. It’s been a while, now. But some Humans that were around the region says that a Human woman was involved in the great massacre.”

“I’ll check later,” I say while nodding.

“But whatever they are doing, now it’s all clean. They are not conducting any illicit business. I had my—”

I snort.

“—Fellows check it.”

Robin scowls.

“You know that they are not happy about you laughing about them.”

“Not my fault that your people chose a ridiculous name.”

“For all the great [Heroes], Joey,” Robin sighs, “if Valarith didn’t have your back, I swear.”

“I like Lord Juler more. If you remember, he’s an actual hero with a legendary past. And he’s got my back. Plus, aren’t Vanedenis supposed to be super strict about not making fun of them or something?”

“I didn’t grow up among Vanedenis,” the man says.

He’s a descendant, and a very capable one. But still not the real deal.

“Well, what’s up?”

“Apart from the bakery not having ties with whomever started looking for information about you… we have actually found that person. To be honest, she found us. She wants to speak with you. I’ve arranged a meeting for tonight if it’s not a problem.”

“Sure. Wait, was someone looking for me?”

“Yes,” Robin rubs his forehead while munching on a biscotto, “the underworld suddenly got several people looking into you. And, if you remember, you didn’t even tell me what to do about that.”

I frown and try to remember…

“Nope, I don’t remember that.”

Robin keeps munching on the sweet biscotti and he shrugs.

“Anything else?” I say while eyeing the rapidly disappearing mound of baked goods.

“Not really,” he says with a stuffed mouth.

“Then?”

“Oh, wait, maybe—” he puts several biscotti at once in his mouth and starts chomping rapidly, pushing a few others in after swallowing. He holds a hand out and has me wait for an entire minute.

“Now that I think about it—”

He stuffs his mouth again.

“You know you can take some home, right?”

He mumbles something but it’s unintelligible.

“What?”

Robin almost chokes before speaking out.

“Cough, cough. I said, you don’t live among thieves. You think no one would steal your biscotti? An artifact? They wouldn’t stare steal one from me. But food? It’s impossible to have any nice food like that among the Fellows. I should insert that into our code of honor—but then, it would probably start a mutiny, so…”

“Listen, weren’t you supposed to find me a sparring partner?”

“I have,” he says while munching.

“You have?”

“I have. And I also left you a note. It’s not exactly someone who’s hiding away if you know what I mean.”

“What? No, Robin, I don’t know what you mean. Who is it?”

“Alonna? The [Archmage]? She’s a master of hand-to-hand combat. She was actually a [Martial Artist] before becoming a [Mage].”

Now, I don’t want to sound… what’s the term when you disparage someone based on weight? Weightist? Fattist? Whatever.

“If you give her the look you are now giving me, there’s a good chance you might die. But again, she’s the least sensitive among them when it comes to stupid insults.”

“Is she? I think she once threatened to kill me,” I reply.

“Which is something several people, even your close friends, probably did,” Robin shoots back.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Anyway, if you go to Alonna, you should be able to arrange some sparring. Be careful, she loves fighting.”

“Whatever. Oh, wait. What about the hidden classes?”

“We already gave you the list.”

“Oh. Can you just summarize it for me? Like, give me a breakdown?”

“You asked specifically for things about [Light]. There was none that we knew about. We even looked into it. Wait—have you checked out the reports we have brought you three days ago? The ones you are paying through the nose for?”

“The history essay has kept me busy,” I smile. “But don’t worry. I totally didn’t forget about the reports. Just to be sure, in case they disappeared, would you mind giving me a copy?”

“It’s going to cost you several gold coins,” Robin shrugs.

“Yeah, whatever. Just do it. I don’t remember where I put them. Too many bag of holdings around here. And that stupid tower as well… How am I supposed to not lose my things if Valarith keeps enlarging the space inside that place?”

“Mh-mh, big problems,” the man says while scooping up more biscotti from the pantry.

“Whatever. I’ll take a nap, don’t wake me up…”

…

“JOEY!”

“Motherf—” I shout and fall from the couch halfway through the swearing.

Anneus almost trips while laughing.

“Christ, what’s the matter with you?!” I tell him, waiting for my heart to stop beating so fast. “You almost stopped my heart with that. Goddamn Elves and their stupid ears.”

“We knew you would forget about the dinner, and we came to pick you up,” Amelia smiled.

As I give my guests another look, I find the lazy half of the group inside my house.

“What dinner?”

“You said you would pay for food to celebrate your tenure as [Professor].”

Did I?

And did I actually get tenure?

I mean, at this point they could be making stuff up and I wouldn’t be able to check.

“Damn, I really have to look into [Memory] spells,” I yawn.

“Whatever, give me a second. I’ll go change. Don’t steal any more biscotti, Marcellus!”

“But I’ve been running errands all day! I require sustenance!” he complains.

“Oh, shut up, you’ll ruin your appetite!”

“That’s so unfair!”

“Tell me about it,” I snort.

…

“So, Alba, is that the new dress?” I say while looking at a long green piece of cloth hugging her form. Female ahali, unlike their counterpart, have a very slender torso and full legs. If they went around wearing thongs out of their jeans, furries would probably go nuts.

“Isn’t she super-pretty?” Amelia smiles with her motherly way.

“She is,” I shoot her a custom-made Joey-trademarked wink.

“So, where are we going?” Anneus asks while moving himself around with his crutches.

“Alba and I were thinking of grabbing something at the Baguetterie and then we asked a [Chef] to reserve some tables for a very special tasting! Some classmates have been talking about that! It’s only a couple of days a week that they do it, when the fresh magical ingredients come by!”

If I had been in California and heard ‘fresh magical ingredients,’ I would have a 100% expected someone to spike my food with mushrooms, I swear.

“Oh, I think I heard about that,” Anneus and smiles slimily. “They say it’s a very nice experience. And it’s extremely pricy as well.”

Huh, even the sulking animal sometimes looks excited. Then, I realize something.

“Wait, is this all coming out of my pocket?”

“That’s what the tradition calls for,” Marcellus nods wisely.

“Hell, you have been in on the tradition for a while then, Marcy,” I snort. “But whatever. My treat. You all go nuts. Is the other half of the crew meeting us there?”

“Yeah, they were busy. We are going to pre-charge our wands, instead, if you get what I mean,” Amelia laughs.

“What? No, I don’t know what you mean. What’s up with people saying that all day? What does it mean to pre-charge our wands? It sounds very… sexual.”

“It means drinking before an event,” Alba says with a scholarly voice, “it’s customary among Elves and, by extension, many [Mages] around the world. Some adventurers have taken up the same custom. But I believe they say—”

I wonder how this girl ended up in our half of the group, honestly. Amelia, Anneus, and Marcellus? Yeah, they are a bit lazy. Compared to Sabina, Zahra, Adrastus, and Aurelia? They are terrible students. But Alba? Her magical talent is up there with Adrastus. Once you ignore the fact that she’s so shy, there’s only a few scales here and there on her body, stuff that you can barely see. But, sadly, it appears to be enough to make her a pariah among her race.

“Sometimes I wonder if we are the cool crew or the loser one,” I tell the others, “like, we are clearly less nerdy than the smarty-pants. But, we are also a bit weird. Where do we fall on the social compass?”

“Social compass?” Amelia asks, frowning.

“I mean, in the hierarchy. Are we cool?”

“If you are asking that question, you are not cool,” Anneus notes.

“I fear you might be right,” I frown.

“Anyway, are you sure you want to go to the Baguetterie?” I say with a shrug. “There are many other great places—”

“Joey’s embarrassed because of the performance he gave to Cassandre when he revealed he was a Human like her. She has been recounting the story to everyone, saying how foolish he looked,” Marcellus intercepts my prepared speech.

“Goddamn it,” I swear.

“Oh yeah, she told me as well,” Anneus nods. “Imagine that.”

“So, we are going to another place,” I say.

“No, we are not. I want to see how shameless you are,” Anneus points out, “a person should rightfully die of shame after that move.”

“Don’t worry, Joey,” Amelia says, “I’m sure you will find a nice girl at some point.”

“Jesus, I’m good with girls! You have no idea how many girls I could have with just a snap of my fingers!”

“Sure, sure, big guy,” Amelia says with a condescending smile.

“Why do I hang out with you, people? Like, why?”

…

Anneus pokes my back with his crutches as I enter the place I’ve been avoiding for the past few days. You know, you would expect that revealing your identity like that would be seen as something super-cool. Instead, I got shamed because of it. Where is the sense of theatrics among these people, huh?

But if they think I’m too ashamed to face Cassandre, they are wrong. Never been ashamed to face any Frenchie.

There are many tables outside the place and the inside is bursting with activity. Not a good sign when you want to interact with a girl. There’s too many to make a move and play your cards. Flirting is like hunting. You want to separate the antelope from the pack before starting the proper chase.

I wait among the queue while I think about alcoholic drinks. No one is making proper wine in this world, to be honest. It’s not even like the Ancient Romans who mixed cheese in it or spices. These people simply don’t have a great taste in that sense. Viniculture is non-existent. And so, they drink weird stuff fermented from other plants and so on. Not that it isn’t a good idea, but they need to mix with juices and so on. In a way, it’s very close to present days cocktails.

Now, I hate describing myself as a foodie. I might have already said that, but ‘foodie’ means idiot. Wine, though? I love a good glass of red wine. The US has also managed to reproduce some wines along the West Coast climate, which is downright incredible.

I would love to start a vineyard, but I don’t really know much about it. Could I use this as an excuse to strike a conversation with Cassandre in the future? Ask her if she wants to talk about vines?

I look at the ceiling of the place and I swear.

“Goddamn idiot,” I mutter to myself.

We are both Humans from Earth in a fantasy world, do we really need an excuse to chat about stuff? Also, I get creepy vibes from this girl. Not that they have ever stopped me from getting intimate with a girl, but she gives me super weird vibes. Why? I don’t know. Call it my spidey-sense for chicks. Some people have a crazy/hot scale, I have a sixth-sense for how dangerous a woman can be. And for some reason, Cassandre gives me otherworldly vibes in that sense. That’s the one reason I have yet to flirt too strongly with her. And I’m not even sure what’s the meaning of the vibes I’m getting, but I feel very unsettled when I’m around her. Wary, in a way.

“Joey,” I hear her voice call me as the queue pushes me to the front.

“Wassup,” I reply with a wide smile. “Looking good. Here’s my order.”

I hand her a piece of paper.

“Cordius! Coming up!” she scribbles down something on the order and gives me a number.

Do I tell her that she shouldn’t be spreading rumors about me? Nah, that’s going to sound lame. Do I make a remark? There’s not time to flirt. What do I do? Simply go and stand in the corner? Do I make the place explode? Maybe a tad too extreme.

“Later, alligator,” my brain catches up with my mouth a second too late as I move to the side.

What the actual f—

What was that? What the hell was that?!

I scratch my forehead as I stare at the number I’m holding in my hands. Am I having a stroke? Did my speech centers in my brain just die? What happened? Where was the smoothness? I was thinking of the best move and I bet I could have said something nice… so why did I say—I don’t want to even think about it. Look, maybe she didn’t notice. Maybe, she just—

I see her smirk at me and shake her head while she serves another person.

Jesus almighty and St. Peter in tow…

I mean, why?

At least she looked at me.

I did not expect this. I did not expect it in the slightest. I mean, I could understand if I said something a bit cringy, but ‘later, alligator’? Maybe it was just my attitude. With another tone, slightly ironic… maybe. Who knows? I mean, what can you expect. I mean… I mean…

I look down at my number.

‘293.’

That not a pretty number, is it?

And why do I have to be the only one entering this stuffy place? Hell, it’s too warm in here with this many people around.

“[Professor] Luciani!” a couple of students call out to me while I’m waiting.

“Yo, wassup,” I nod at them.

“Are you having dinner here?”

Is this one of those situations where people don’t realize that professors have a life outside the classroom, that they don’t exist just as spirits chained to the desk?

“Heh, just charging up the wands, you know,” I shrug. “Going for a tasting somewhere somewhere with special ingredients in a couple of hours.”

As they start asking me questions about where I’m going to eat next, I stop listening because I notice Cassandre surreptitiously sneaking a few glances at me. I wink toward her with nonchalance, now too deep in the waters to do anything else. Better act like nothing just happened.

Later alligator.

Jesus Christ.

It’s not even cheesy, it’s just plain stupid.

If a psychologist from LA had been there, he might have diagnosed me with Asperger or ADHD on the spot!

“So, [Professor]! [Professor]!” they yell in my ear.

Goddamn students.

“What?”

“So, do you have any special tip for the assignment you gave?”

Wait.

What assignment?

Oh, right! The boobs!

“Always ask before touching them,” I snort and wave my hand while I get away from them. The order number is getting closer and I go up to a huge half-giant who’s serving out the drinks.

“Yo,” I nod at him, “drinks for order 293?”

“Did you get your food?”

“No?”

“Wait for the food.”

“But—”

“Next!”

Jesus.

I create a small spell matrix inside the shop with a refrigerating effect and the temperature finally becomes bearable. I take out my thermos of coffee and start sipping straight from it. Can’t be bothered to take out a cup from it.

“Did you hear? They just saw Royal Guards around! Some big shot is coming!”

“Oh, maybe the [Princess]?”

“I think it’s the [Princes]! Maybe they will get another master after Marcus died!”

Oh, guards?

I wonder—

“Order 293!” a half-giant employee of this place shouts.

“Yo!” I raise my hand with the little paper scrap in it.

“This is your food, go get the drinks over there,” the man says while handing out a bunch of food in a bag made of leaves. Yeah, leaves. Like Adam and Eve but for baguettes. They do kind of look like fig leaves as well.

“Can I have my drinks now?” I ask the guy, showing him that I have the food with me now.

He hands out a bunch of cheap wooden cups that are apparently mass produced around here. The drinks cost more because you can bring them home with you.

“Thanks,” I say, while I levitate all the drinks with a simple platform made of pure magic. It’s actually much harder than what it looks like and I have to create a small shield around it to avoid having these hormonal hooligans bump into it.

“Bye!” I say without turning back, not knowing if Cassandre has heard me or not.

…

“I can’t believe they didn’t show up,” Amelia says for the umpteemth time.

“Whatever,” I say while holding my stomach. I ate too much. Eating and drinking before the tasting was a terrible idea. For some reason I had assumed it would be some kind of fancy tasting with micro-portions. Oh boy, if I was wrong. The portions were huge. I think I might have eaten three pounds of meat tonight.

“They could have sent word to justify their absence,” Marcellus speaks, slightly slurring the words because of the alcohol.

I look at Alba, who’s barely walking straight. Apparently, Ahalis are not great at holding their alcohol. Not even the draconic blood in her vein did her any good in that regard.

“Where does Alba live?” I ask Amelia.

She scrunches her face, and looks at the half-monkey, half-rabbit, half-humanoid with worry in her eyes.

“Pretty far. Maybe we should let her sleep at your place.”

“Sure, no problem,” I nod.

I didn’t drink much alcohol. As previously mentioned, I’m not the biggest fan of fruity cocktails. A good glass of wine? Sure, every day of the week and every hour of the day. But not a colorful composition that looks like a kid mixing random things.

“That Ivafosia was extremely good,” Anneus says.

“Yeah, it was decent,” I nod.

What? Can’t be a bit snob about food? You expect me to go to a random restaurant that does weekly tasting and not hold them at very high standards?

The food was passable, but the price was insane. They actually made us pay upfront to be sure we could afford it. Meh, whatever.

“Are those Royal Guards?” Amelia asks while we are very near my place.

“Well, goodnight Joey,” Anneus says and turns on his feet.

“Oh no,” I say while grabbing his shirt, “if they want to execute me, you are coming with me. With all I paid tonight, your life wouldn’t even make up for half the tab.”

“YOU WHAT?”

Suddenly, one of the windows of my place explodes outward, showering the ground in shards of glass. The voice sounds terribly familiar.

“That was very strong, enchanted glass,” I note, pondering whether I should find an inn for the night.

“SLUT!”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!”

The second voice sounds very familiar as well.

Oh, wait.

I think I might know what’s happening.

“Well, I think we should all go to sleep in an inn. My house is currently unavailable,” I say with a smile.

So, was it her? Did she look for information about me through the underworld? Weird that Robin wouldn’t mention that.

“Excuse me!”

I suddenly hear a British accent from the side of the street.

“Excuse me!” a woman reaches us with a wide pearly-white smile. My mouth goes slack because I swear I’m looking at what Penelope Cruz would look like if she was hotter than she already is.

“Is that Joey Luciani’s house?” she asks while pointing at the house where a second window just exploded.

“Oh, that one? No, I don’t think so. Joey Luciani doesn’t live here,” I say while slowly caressing Princess Bianca. “He moved. Far, far away—”

“OH, ARE YOU LOOKING FOR JOEY LUCIANI? THIS GUY RIGHT HERE IS JOEY LUCIANI!”

As soon as Anneus stops shouting, the noises in the house go quiet.

“Oh, you are Joey Luciani?” the British woman smiles kindly. “I’m Penelope, I was looking for you. I’m sorry about the hour but I was attending to some business around the academy until late. Is it a bad moment?”

As I see both [Princess] Laura and Lucinda come out of my place, I feel that, indeed, it is a bad time. Also, it would have been nice if I learned [Teleport] by now. I surely could have used it.

“Joey?” right as I’m thinking that the night couldn’t go worse, I hear Cassandre’s voice at my back. As I turn, I see her changed out of her work attire to a more relaxed set of clothes, with a frown while she looks at the woman named Penelope and the other two women who are aggressively approaching.

“Well, how you doin’?” I launch in a panoramic smile all around.