Your penmanship is awful.

“Yeah, public school’s fault. Writing properly always required too much effort to learn.”

There are certain disciplines in magic that require calligraphy, Joey Luciani.

“Ok, ok. Is the contract any good?”

One thing I did not expect from Lord Juler is that he would go full-Dolores-Umbridge on me. Apparently, all ‘self-respecting future [Archmages] write student-teacher contracts in blood, Joey Luciani.’ Thanks to an impromptu [Numbness] spell, it wasn’t so bad. And Lord Juler said I would get a nice surprise very soon.

The contract is ready. She just needs to sign with her own blood, and it will be enforced.

A magical contract meant that there was no way out of this. If she leaked information about what I was going to teach her, she would be tortured. Plus, even if she was abducted, this contract magically enforced her silence. To be more precise, if she somehow managed to say anything about my magic, she would immediately be stabbed with unimaginable pain. But I wasn’t really concerned about that. From how Lord Juler explained the contract, it was sort of a magical geas that would make it virtually impossible for her to spill the beans. There are a few countermeasures, but the [Supreme Archmagus] said it would take someone of his caliber to crack the thing.

“I hope Domitilla won’t be freaked out,” I sigh.

I had promised Julia’s daughter to teach her magic, and I had almost forgotten. Then, Lord Juler brought it up during lunch. Apparently, it was common for [Mages] to be either students or teachers. Sometimes, both.

Even though I have many things on my plate already, it would feel improper to refuse a bit of teaching. Plus, I plan on simply starting from the first 23 Cantrips and taking it from there based on whatever she wants to learn. My fundamentals are solid, incredibly so. But my knowledge of specific magic falls short of pretty much any trained [Mage].

I look up from the contract at my desk, still bloody fresh, and I realize I need a burger. It’s like one of those ‘whiny pregnant lady’ moments when the woman, based on cravings that have no scientific basis, wants something; however, she frames it as needing it.

At this moment, I need a burger.

Now, you might think, ‘Joey, but you have a bakery,’ not a restaurant. Well, yes. And no. I do have cooking stations supplied with little grills and air ventilation needed for grilling stuff indoors. I haven’t yet shipped my country’s trademark dish to the market, but I’m prepared for emergencies.

The day my special burgers and a revisitation of the club sandwich hit Amorium, I will probably be the richest—mhh.

I go down the stairs, and as I’m stepping on them, I shout: “Stanimal! Are we the richest food-makers in town?!”

I notice that some adventurers are at the tables, consuming hot lunch. Some of them are trying out burgers and other meat-based dishes. Hell, I’m not having vegan options on my menu. There’s this guy in Italy, a mayor or something, who owns a restaurant and claims that even his salad has animal fat in it.

That’s my role model.

Stan comes out of the kitchen with his usual relaxed attitude. He was probably instructing the new recruits about—and I see Master Lakaris right behind him.

Oh.

I forgot about that.

Once again.

The [Architect] looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Our income might be the highest, yes,” Stanimal says without blinking.

Huh.

Then we don’t need burgers that fast, do we? To make money, at least. We need burgers on a different level, though. Spiritually. What country has no burgers to placate the masses and fulfill one’s spiritual needs?

Sometimes, when I went to church with my mother, I imagined eating burgers while kneeling. You know, there’s this moment during mass where you ‘think about your sins’ or stuff like that while kneeling? Ok, imagine ‘thinking about your burger.’ A culinary experience that completely absorbs you, physically, tastily, emotionally, spiritually. That’s what the apex of civilization ought to look like.

“Joey, would you be so kind as to come down so that you can look at the blueprints that Master Lakaris has sketched? I tried imagining what you might like here, but you can probably understand how that could be difficult. It would help getting your input before we depart for the academy.”

Right, the duels. That’s a problem, though, isn’t it? What am I going to do for Antoninus’s mom?

Their academy hides great secrets of power, Joey Luciani. You might find some of what you need. Sadly, not all my knowledge is available to me. Injecting my soul into the book was a process—

Yeah, I know. You already told me, Lord Juler. It wasn’t a clean process. It could have affected your memories because it was post-mortem, and you had to funnel your spirit through a spatial hole.

I wait for a zap, but, for once, he doesn’t seem inclined to punish my insolence. Well, some good news every once in a while, at least.

“Sure, can we discuss the thing after I make some food? Also, Domitilla should be coming soon for our first lesson. I just finished up the contract for our apprenticeship.”

“Sure,” Stan says.

I start walking to the kitchen, but as soon as I pass my Stanimal, he grabs my arm.

“Lucillus heard from Antoninus that you mentioned curing Rottenbone, Joey.”

I turn my eyes to his silver beard first and then to his deep eyes.

“Yeah. I have been trying to figure that out.”

“And so Lucillus says, Joey. Rottenbone. I can’t cure Rottenbone.”

Huh.

Right.

I didn’t really tell Stan, did I?

“Yeah… not going great, to be honest.”

“And you are researching one of the most elaborate curses in existence to save a woman who has a terminal case? I searched Antoninus’s place. And I found potent spells to numb her pain, increase her response to the curse, and slow it down. That should be beyond, far beyond, your capabilities.”

His stare glues me to the ground.

“I’m curious to hear how you’d do that. I just want to make sure that my niece is in good hands.”