Casual Heroing, Chapter 209

INHALING FUMES?! 🚬🚬🚬

Next chapter comes out November 3rd!

2/4  chapters this week!

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Chapter 209 – Letter

To: Joey Luciani, the Human

Location: Amorium

From: Plinius Longinus

I look at the envelope in my hands, and my heart stops for a moment. The [Runner] skips away without even looking twice, and I’m left standing in the middle of the door, the bakery sounds from below the only background noise.

“What the...” I mutter, opening the envelope and unfolding the cheap paper inside. I find myself confronted with rather childish penmanship and a few sparse sentences.

‘Salutations, Human

I’ve recently come across new information that shall change our relationship.

I am writing to you in advance to ask you to look after my sister and not to allow her anywhere near the Eastern Gate.

She would have trashed a letter from me. That is why I’m addressing you despite…’

There were several words crossed out after that.

‘Despite my hate for your kind.

The Dungeon is a greater threat than you might think. The fact that you survived proves you are not, indeed, the kind of spineless coward who would have needed to poison Appius to win the duel.

Tell my sister that my plans have changed. I will call for a meeting among the nobles, [General] Aurelianus, and the Watch. Use your contacts to get the attention of the Royal Guard. I was advised against it, but I believe it to be necessary.

Collaboration should take precedence over our squabbles for the sake of survival.

Once I’m back, I’ll arrange a meeting between you and the party who approached me in the capital. You have piqued their interest.

Do not die nor leave Amorium in my absence. I regret your importance, but Humans are now the least of my people’s problems.

You need to dive into the Dungeon again as soon as possible. Things will become much clearer, they said. Wait for me, however. I have much more to tell you. This is just the beginning.

Amorium is in grave danger.

Take care of my sister.

We’ll talk man to man when I’m back.

I won’t stab you—I promise.’

My mind reels as I sit on the couch where Irene had been crying just moments ago. I have to reread the letter a few more times before I can wrap my head around it.

“He omitted information on purpose. He suspected someone might intercept it,” Magister Mulligan, who’s just materialized in front of me, says as he closes the door with a snap of his fingers.

“Old man, do you know something that I don’t? I’m at a loss here. This guy hated my guts. He mentioned the nobles, the Royal Guard, and the military. But he seems to imply there’s another power that wants to get in touch with me.”

“Don’t be dull, young Luciani. Even the Vanedeni have secret societies. Our [Scholars] found evidence of secret [Heroes], and there are many missing pieces in our history as if time had at times been rend.”

“Ok, and?”

“Word about you clearing the Dungeon has clearly gone out. Those Adventurers you accompanied through the first floor have obviously talked, even if that Drusillus wanted to keep your involvement as secret as possible.”

“That doesn’t really tell me who Plinius is talking about.”

“Not only that,” the old man exhales, adjusting the massive hat on his head. “If this faction we don’t know anything about didn’t actually kill this Elf, we are left with a limited set of possibilities. I thought I had left these damning political intrigues behind me together with my physical body.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Young Luciani, if this faction wanted to meet you, I highly doubt they were the ones coming after his life. And finding the Elf’s killer would also reveal whoever framed you. Therefore, we have three possible suspects,” Magister Mulligan explains slowly.

“The nobles, the royals, and the military.”

...

Even though Plinius’s letter clearly stated to dive into the Dungeon as soon as possible, I currently have problems that might ruin my life much sooner than a secret faction.

They’re the kind of problems that you can never escape from, even in a whole different world—money problems.

I rap on the door of a place not too far from my bakery when an unexpected face pops up from behind it.

“Lucinda?”

“Joey,” Lucinda smiles at me awkwardly. “I came here to try out some of the new soaps.”

“Oh, right, right.”

As a thank-you for her help, I not only paid Lucinda a fat sum of money to help with her Nine Towers whatchamacallit, but I also told her to help with Truffles’s new business to which, regrettably, I’m the sole investor. And that’s why she gets the first and mostly free picks of all the new products the blond has experimented with after following my directions.

“Is Truffleman in?” I force a smile on my face, feeling myself blush slightly.

“He is,” Lucinda nods. “He just finished a new batch.”

She leads the way into the complex that Truffles is renting. This little experiment of mine has been hemorrhaging my money left and right in the order of hundreds of golds per month. I even considered briefly stopping investing in this venture, but friends are friends, right? I cannot bring myself to tell the guy who just found his first love that I can’t give him the money to take her to the movies.

This building is the closest thing to an industrial prefabricate in Amorium—I told Truffles a gazillion times that inhaling the fumes of his work is not the best way to get high. Although, you can never really know if that’s the case. LSD, and the much less important penicillin, was invented randomly by clumsy scientists who were too high for their own good.

We weave around some huge containers where I can see wood ashes being slowly filtered through some massive straining thingies—I didn’t remember the technical terminology, and Truffles made the rest up. As it occurs, I can’t be bothered to learn all the new names he’s giving to things. He might have learned how to read some things, but that doesn’t mean he’s become less weird.

“Truffles,” Lucinda calls at the blond, who’s carefully taking out a pink chunk of soap from a stamp. He doesn’t even respond since he’s so engrossed in the act, meticulously trying to avoid breaking the soap.

It takes him half a minute of me watching in silence, and Lucinda rolling her eyes before he’s done and finally notices us. But before I can even say a word, a stunningly gorgeous woman and her tremendously handsome husband come out from behind a container and almost tackle me to the ground.

“Hah!” Chrysantus, Truffles’s father exclaims. “Look at which fruit fell in our lap!”

I look at the man and squint slightly when I see a bunch of eyeliner and other colors around his eyes—instead, his wife, Tullia, is sporting the reddest lipstick I have ever seen in my entire life.

We are going to be rich, I smile for a moment. In the next, however, I remind myself that this whole operation is still far from fully taking off.

“Joey,” Truffles says plainly, holding the pink soap in his hand, walking toward me, and jamming it right in front of my face. “Ten golds.”

A wild smell of roses assaults my nostrils, and a rose-shaped flower, detailed with several smaller, red chunks encased in its petals, enters my vision.

“Wow,” I say, gently taking the soap from him and studying it. “You’ve got the super-fatting down to a science, Truffleman.”

“My name is not—”

“Trufflebag? Yeah, I prefer Truffleman as well.”

I see Tullia, Truffles’s mother, who is extremely protective of her son’s actual name, frown dangerously at me before Chrysantus interjects.

“My, my! Let’s not bicker, boys! Young man, let me tell you, this is beyond our wildest expectations! Truffles has been concocting the greatest make-up we have ever seen! And his soaps! They are so soft on the skin!”

I smile like the Cheshire cat when they mention the sneakiest idea I’ve had yet. See, knowing that the bakery would need some time to ramp up the production, I told myself that perhaps there were other avenues to make money as well. One of them, as it turns out, is putting the right ingredients and ideas in the hands of the most alchemy-obsessed person in the city.

“How’s the name coming along?” I ask and immediately see Truffles’s parents, two Named Adventurers who are never able to rein their son in, wince.

“Truffle’s Alchemical Shop,” the blond says without skipping a beat. When he sees the grimace on my face, he nods, “But I’ve thought about what you said about marketing. Truffles’s Alchemical Shop Beauty Products, Make-Up, And Skincare.”

“Well, it’s... something,” I say, gently shaking my head at his parents. “Anyway, I’m here to talk shop. Do you have a moment?”

...

I’ve briefly recounted what happened this morning since they had yet to hear about Plinius’s death and its consequences for me, the bakery, and, perhaps, Truffles’s business.

“[Merchants] will not do any business with you the instant they get wind of this," Tullia states matter-of-factly.

It’s pretty much the same reason I told Truffles to keep experimenting with all the concoctions he’s been working on but without selling anything. The moment these things hit the market, the [Merchants] will try to skin us alive.

“Unless you change your mind and go to Aureamanus,” Chrysantus adds.

“I don’t like to have all my eggs in one basket. She already has a piece of one of my businesses. She can stay out of the rest. So, I was wondering if Camilla and Flavia have helped with the numbers like I asked them.”

Truffles, who’s had to learn a lot of math in the past two months, nods.

“They say I need to hire people if we want to launch in less than six months. Flavia was very nice.”

“Isn’t that going to be—”

I stop when I see Chrysantus elbowing his wife and grinning at her.

“What?” I ask them.

“Oh, nothing, Joey. We were just wondering if perhaps Truffles and Flavia should have more business meetings,” the man makes no shortage of faces and signs with his hands to let me understand what’s going on.

“Huh, Truffleman is interested...” I trail off while Truffles is still completely oblivious to the subtext. “In business, yes, yes,” I catch myself.

“Flavia seems pretty interested as well,” his mother quips.

“She is very good with numbers,” Truffles nods. “But I don’t like Camilla. She insisted that the ‘luxury’ line you talked about be all about roses. I don’t want all roses.”

“Yeah, we are not doing all roses, don’t worry. I’m sure there are many other flowers we can think of. How are retinol and hyaluronic acid coming along instead?”

“My son comes home smelling of fish and bones, and you—”

“Tullia,” Chrysantus smacks his lips and starts dragging away his wife, “we’ll leave you boys alone. There are more samples we need to try out—you know, to make sure they don’t melt someone’s face off.”

I know for a fact that the soap-making processes I gave Truffles will not melt anyone’s face off, but his parents are performer-like classers, meaning they love their make-up.

...

Truffles shows me the precipitated hyaluronic acid he’s been grinding and boiling out of joints, bones, and all connective tissues one can find in animal carcasses.

“It precipitates,” he shows me a vinegar-infused solution. “Like you said. And I’ve gained four levels from it.”

He moves onto another glass container, handling it with so little care I almost smack the blond across his head. When it’s me forking out the money for glass, I’d like people to just be a little more careful, you know?!

“The ethanol worked as you intended. I ruined many batches because of the temperature, though. Now, it’s okay. It makes the skin very soft.”

“Maybe I should try some,” Lucinda says from the back.

“Nah, your skin’s perfect already,” I casually remark before almost facepalming myself in regret. “I meant—yeah, it’s... good.”
“Oh... thank you.”
I can’t take this awkwardness, I swear.

“These refining techniques work really well,” Truffles comments without bothering with us, “my mom loves the enhanced pigments, too.”

“Well, we’ll have to discuss the lineups for sale and howwe will sell this stuff. A boutique-like store would probably make Amorium go crazy over it, but I can’t afford to pour any more crazy money into this. I’m close to bankruptcy already.”

That’s when Chrysantus suddenly reappears from a shadow as if he has always been there.

“Money problems? Human—sorry, Joey. You are a Gold-Rank Adventurer.”

“So?” I ask with a frown.

“Well, you could just dive into the Dungeon or accept a mission or two!”

“And who’s going to run the bakery? Plus, I have magical practice and...”

I am explaining my plights when Tullia runs to us with wide eyes.

“Chrysantus! The Royal Guard is here!” She screams, agitated. “They tracked down the Human, and they are waiting by the entrance!”

“What?” I frown.

“They said they are here for you!” Tullia says, and my blood goes cold.