“What are the food resources that Leggiadra is lacking the most?” I ask Licinium.

“We have a lot of wheat, but we are low on fruits. Meat, maybe. Fruits are probably the resource that we lack the most. Any spice, I guess. We struggle to find salt. But mostly, seeds to have our own trees would definitely help.”

He doesn’t pay too much attention to the question. I’ve been making a list of things I need to know and I plan to ask him everything but mixing it with different questions.

“And is there any food the Vanedenis exported? Or what is their culture generally famous for, food-wise?”

…

“Oh, that’s very interesting. And which merchants and companies, in particular, refuse to trade?”

“The Human city of Keveiz,” he says distractedly. “They have all the companies and people who basically cut off the trade with us. Half-giants have even considered attacking them. They are around two weeks from Leggiadra. On foot.”

…

“How good is a [Mage]’s shield against an arrow compared to a blow from a sword?”

“Most [Mages] and wands make shields that are one big clump of Mana. The distribution of resistance is perfectly even, which makes most shields extremely weak to small projectiles like arrows.”

…

“How do [Merchants] transport all those things? Do they use bag of holdings?”

“What? No. They use chests of holding.”

…

“Have you ever heard of nitric or sulfuric acid?”

“The ones [Alchemist] use and burn your skin if you touch it with bare hands?”

A large smile appears on my face as I nod.

“You can find a lot of it among the [Glassworkers].”

…

“Are there half-giants who want to fight? I mean, I’d be pretty angry all the time. Doesn’t anyone want to try and establish the trade routes once again through force?”

“Sure, some youngsters always think like that. But we did go to war. And we lost. We had more than one city in this region. The city of Keveiz was ours, and they still have many of the building we built there. They are also very close to a mine that we used to own. Now, it’s in the hand of a [Merchant] consortium.”

“Is the mine still… mineable?”

“Sure is. They don’t have the levels nor the classes necessary to deplete it fast. It was probably barely even touched since we left it a few hundred years back.”

…

“How good is the steel that the most capable [Blacksmiths] can make in the Glass and Steel District? How even, to be precise?”

“If they are to believed? The most even in the whole world. Those old idiots. Do you have any idea how long they spend looking at the minerals before they even touch them? Oh, and touching is a whole other thing. Smelling and tasting, as well. One would think that with age wisdom should come along. Those dirt bags just get weirder. Bah. Whatever make them level, I guess.”

…

I look at the notes that I painfully wrote in French. It took a lot of effort to squeeze out my mother tongue from my pen—this might be the first time in my entire life that I wish I learned Arabic. That would have been hard to decode, much harder than usual. Sadly, I can only speak some. My father never found the time to properly teach me.

I have enough information to put my plan in action. These past few days I’ve barely eaten to save money. I bought some dried food and a couple water canteens for the travel. It should be enough and I can always hunt a beast or two. Or Humans. Both will be fine. And with the map I sketched from the books, the indications that I got from Licinium, it will be easy to get where I want to be.

No strange beasts inhabit the forest and it has a very low coefficient of criminals—which I’m going to change very soon. Apparently, [Bandits] purposefully avoid the half-giants; the latter can be quite vindictive when someone steals the little they have. And the Humans could already be considered criminals themselves, so nothing to be surprised of there.

As I’m about to enter Licinium’s bookstore, I can finally see someone there for the first time since I arrived. It’s a younger half-giant in his mid-forties. I stop right beside the door, putting my back to the wall by the window, out of sight, listening to what’s going on.

“Dad, I told you we have to sell this place. No one comes here anyway!”

“Oh, would you shut up! Go back to play with whatever it is that you are doing now! I’m good here and it’s my money you are talking about.”

“Dad, where are you even finding the money?!”

“It’s not of your business Marius!”

“It is, dad! Look at you! You are too old to come down here every day! You need to rest. And I need the money for my marriage! Lesinia…”

“That whore. I’m not giving you one copper, do you understand? You want to marry that—cough!”

I hear Licinium starting to violently cough, one of the worst attacks I’ve ever heard.

The son stays silent, but Licinium resumes talking, weakly, as soon as his breath comes back to him.

“You never wanted to read a book. You were never interested in anything, Marius. You jumped from job to job, spending all the money I ever gave you in stupid gifts for that whore. Traianus has never shown his face to me in the last ten years. I guess that you two etched from eggs that some snake laid around here—because you are not my children, that’s for sure.”

“You are going to die alone, dad. No one’s going to cry for your death. Most people here will just be relieved that this shop will actually be used for something. As soon as I can open my [Butcher]’s shop, everyone will be happy that no one in the family took over the book business. As if there was something useful here. Why don’t you look at yourself, dad? You spend all day alone in a shop where no one comes. You are just a pathetic old man. Sell the books and let me have the shop. The basement is perfect to store meats. I bet that the same runes you use for books could be easily used for the meat. I’ll buy you a house close to the one I’m building and you can visit any time. Lesinia’s pregnant, dad. You are also going to be a grandfather. Why not come with me instead of dying like a sad bastard all alone in here?”

I can hear the labored breathing of Licinium, clearly upset.

“I’m just sad for the poor life you’ll be bringing to this world, Marius. Whoever that kid will be, it does not deserve two parents like you and that whore. People often forget what it means to have terrible parents. And like every other careless person did, you will just ruin his life, as you and your brother already did for yourselves.”

“I need the money, dad. You need to sell. I’m not going to repeat—”

“Go out, Marius. Leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. Just wait until I die and then go destroy our family’s heritage for yet another transitory passion of yours.”

“You’ll see dad! You’ll see!” a half-giant comes out in big strides from the shop, huffing and puffing, red on his face.

I wait a minute to enter, until Marius is out of sight. He didn’t notice I was right outside the shop, or he just thought I’m simply a curious bystander.

“Cassandre,” I hear a tired voice say from the inside, “please, come in.”

…

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You did. And there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just another story to read, or to listen to. But it’s definitely not worth a [Bard]’s voice and rhymes. Family feuds are one of the most common subjects of fiction…”

Licinium goes silent, seemingly older compared to the last time I saw him the day before. He’s drumming his fingers on a little table by his chair—not on a book. Never on a book.

“I tried. I really tried. I wanted to teach them how marvelous this world can be when you read through what has already transpired. A handful of people can become something more, [Heroes]. And even less among all the half-giants who’ll ever live. But I wanted to teach them the stories, to have them learn from the mistakes we already made in the past. It was my attempt at bottling wisdom and spooning it to their mouths little by little.”

“Parents can only influence their children so much, Licinium. My father tried to pass onto me the art of baking. But I’m no baker.”

“But can you bake?”

“Yes, but—”

“That would have been enough. If they did not want to manage my store, but did share some love for books, that would have been enough. I would have given them my books to read, not to safekeep. All the books in the world will have one last receptacle, one final destination. And if that had to be my children, and their children after, it would have been fine with me. I didn’t ask much of them. Never. I—”

Licinium erupts in a fit of cough.

“We can’t control what other people do,” I say regretfully, “we can only build with our hands and hope that others will follow in my steps.”

The old half-giant doesn’t answer. He simply stares at all the books around him, wondering what their end will be, their demise. What destiny awaits them. Will the children of [Merchants] rip the pages to blow their noses or wipe their asses?

When I see that the old half-giant is not answering, it's not responsive to what I have said, I contemplate harder. What can you say to a man who is about to lose everything? Is there anything that you can say that will make him happier? Or maybe, not happier, just give him peace?

Peace.

“Listen, Licinium. What if I buy all your books? I'm about to conduct some important business. I'll be back in the month. Do you think you can hold out for me?”

There is no happiness in the gaze that washes over me.

“Cassandre, I know. I’m not sure… But I do have an idea of what you are planning.”

A cold shiver runs down my back. I have no idea what he knows.

“My classes deal with information. You tried to hide it, but I know you are planning something. Whatever it is, I suggest you don't do it.”

“Licinium, I don’t think you know. I think you might have the wrong idea. Or if you do have the right idea, you are not placing enough faith in me.”

The old man just waves a hand, shushing me.

“I'm old. I don't care. But whatever you're going to do, just take this. Wait a second.”

He gets up and starts searching among the sea of books lying around the shop. It takes a few minutes and him disappearing behind the tall columns of stacked books. But at last, he comes back with a small volume in his hands.

“This is a collection of poems. A Vanedeni [Bard] put them together even though their people are not fond of this type of recollection. They often narrate the deeds of their heroes to their children right after they are born. They barely keep any record. But a [Bard], a high-levelled one, gathered stories and put them together in this anthology. He didn’t want them to go to waste.”

He looks at the battered book, kept in surprisingly terrible conditions for Licinium’s standards, and smiles.

“This is a copy he made himself. I have copies from [Scribes], but this is the genuine item. Wherever you go, I fear that the madness of Vanedenis might be a good companion for yours.”