Imagine having a conversation where people ask you, ‘what’s better: pancake, French toast, or waffle?’ and not walking away immediately. How can it be possible to have such a bland taste? First of all, anything with the word ‘French’ in it should be declared illegal. Second, waffles and pancakes are the two blandest desserts one can imagine.

I would go as far as saying that if you like pancakes, you have no taste whatsoever. Come on; they don’t taste of anything. I mean, you could try to make them better, add things in order to give some nice flavor to the dough. But why would you do it? I mean, at that point, it basically becomes a cake. And guess what, you can’t cook a decent cake in a pan.

Oof, memories.

Do you know how some people don’t realize that you are a professional? Or, even worse, how some people try to one-up you precisely because you are a professional? Well, I remember that one time this woman came to me claiming she could bake the best cakes in a pan. Sure, you can cook a cake in a pan. Hell, nowadays they make — made – I guess, I’m not on Earth anymore – anyway, they used to make special pots to bake and whatnot. But guess what, genius, you need a better distribution of heat to have the dough cook in the best way possible. Food is not just killing the bacteria and heating up the ingredients. Where from, how, and how much are fundamental things when using an oven. If you are cooking pasta, you don’t need to know the precise distribution of heat because it’s in water. But inside an oven? Jesus, you have no idea! Did you know that if you don’t clean your oven properly, the distribution of heat gets messed up? I bet you didn’t.

And guess what? There are some housewives out there who believe they are professional chefs. Man, listen, I don’t want to be mean, but if you are cooking at home with just a few utensils and you manage to make a good cake, good for you. But remember, that’s not a professional cake. Maybe one out of tens of thousands of housewives will be as good as a good chef. And sure, there are people who are ‘supposedly professional’ but make disgusting food. Sure. That’s why restaurants fail. That’s why any business fails. Sometimes, you are just not capable enough.

What? You think that back on Earth and here my baking success is due to what? Luck? I mean, I heard that once. And I’ll tell you what. In Sicily, where the Cannolo Siciliano comes from, the pastry that’s basically fried dough filled with sheep ricotta, there’s a city almost in the middle of nowhere. Compared to US geography, it’s a village, basically. It’s nothing. The smallest part of the world you can imagine without going straight to the Amazonian Rainforest.

So, you enter this place, and it looks like every other city built in the 20th century. Plus, it’s mostly a ghost town. It’s literally just one straight street. There’s nothing. Literally, absolutely, nothing. But guess what?

Once you are halfway through, you can see a queue of people outside a bakery. And I’m not joking, fella. This is a real thing. You can see more than a hundred people there, waiting in line while checking their phones or smoking a cigarette. People drive miles to get their breakfast there. Why? Well, because they have the best cannoli siciliani in the entire region. And, unlike some think, it’s not just a rumor; if it was, they would go out of business immediately. You can drive for miles for a rumor once, maybe twice if you are a bit stupid. But if you want people to come back and wait in line under the hot Sicilian sun, you butter have the most perfect motherflipping ricotta in the world.

“Joey?” I feel Marcellus shaking my arm.

“Green Groves and Brown Barricades,” Anneus sighs, “is he doing it again?”

“Joey!” Marcellus basically shouts in my ear.

“What? What happened?”

“You were just staring into the distance,” he says.

“Oh, right.”

“So, where are we going?” Anneus asks.

“Adrastus’s place,” I nod to myself. “That’s where.”

“You know where he lives?” Anneus looks skeptical.

“Me? No. But I have a file on him…” I look around the house, “somewhere.”

…

“You have files on us?” Anneus asks while we walk toward the designated address.

“Kind of. Practical stuff. Background checks. Nothing major,” I shrug.

“Well, that’s—” Marcellus looks pale when he hears that.

“He probably doesn’t remember half of it,” Anneus says in a rare gesture of kindness. “Nothing to worry about, even if you did something wrong in the past. Chances are this guy will probably confuse our names at some point.”

Interesting behavior.

“Anyway,” I yawn, “we go to Adrastus, we get him to help us help Amelia. She has it rough, money-wise. Also, she’s got some problems of her own. Don’t be assholes when you are with her. Anneus, I’m mainly speaking to you.”

Marcellus has become very nervous after I revealed the thing about me having their backgrounds in writing. But you know, I would be as well if I were him. Why? Well…

“Why do we need Adrastus?” Anneus asks.

“Why? Have you looked at us? Who’s subtle and gentle here? You? Marcellus? We don’t want to create trouble for Amelia. We want her to be happy. Get us to help her alone, and that’s like taking a sledgehammer into a glass shop.”

“Why Adrastus, then?” Anneus seems slightly jealous of the man’s qualities.

“He’s used to court etiquette or something like that. Apparently, he also has a… nemesis? Long story short, he should be good at scheming.”

“Says the person with files on all of us,” Marcellus complains in an unusually plain tone.

“Stop fucking complaining,” Anneus snarls at a tching Marcellus.

“Don’t worry, Marcy. It’s all’s good,” I tell him.

…

“Wassup!” I say as soon as Adrastus swings his door open, barging inside his house without an invite. Better to enter now than having to force our way in when he shuts the door closed.

“Joey?” the man smiles and frowns at the same time.

“My man, Adrastus.”

“Aren’t you supposed to prepare the assignments for next week? What are you doing here?”

“Three days, Jesus. I have three goddamn days. What’s your problem? Anyway, Marcy and Anneus are with me. We have a problem, and we need your… cunning?”

“Joey, as you might know, we have several assignments. And we need to keep up with the research for the History of Magic midterm. We can’t just—”

“Yo!” Anneus barges in through the door, slamming a crutch on the wall. “Nice place. So, you are royalty? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“What? Royalty?” Adrastus frowns.

“Joey said your family is at court.”

“My father is a [Courtier],” Adrastus rubs his face, “and I don’t remember telling you that.”

He’s talking to me.

“He has files on us. Apparently, he background-checked everyone,” Anneus says.

“Christ,” I yell, “ok. Let’s keep that between us. You three have relatively safe stories. The others? I don’t want them to think I’m butting my nose in their lives. Anneus, I swear, if you say anything to them!”

“Well done,” Adrastus shrugs. “It would be common procedure for anyone belonging to royalty to have their friends evaluated. Joey is a Human with prodigy-like talent and ties to the Vanedenis. It’s a miracle he hasn’t been assassinated yet. The reason for that—probably [Princess] Valarith.”

“Christ, this is not about me, people. Come on. All in. Marcy! Get inside! Come on! We need to talk.”

As we take our places at the side of a table, I spend a second examining their faces. Everyone, in their own regard, is shook by the news that I have info on them. I’m not sure I should have said anything, honestly.

Anneus surprises me because he’s frowning and thinking. All of this in silence. It’s a miracle, really.

“What’s happening?” Adrastus asks, moving some papers and parchment around on the table.

“Amelia is having some money problems. We were wondering how to help her without being… insensitive?”

Adrastus looks at Marcellus for a second before looking at me again.

“Insensitive? You want to give her some money but covertly. Create a job and assign it to her?”

“Eh, I don’t really have much clout around Elves, you know.”

“Leave the money on the road and wait for her to find it. She looks like she might believe she got lucky,” Anneus suggests.

“Meh, she would probably start looking around to give it back,” I shoot it off.

“Amelia seems weirdly proud about that stuff,” Adrasts nods, “maybe you should hire her for something. You have some serious money lying around if you can afford background checks.”

Didn’t I tell them that I basically robbed the royal treasury? Well, let’s keep that under the lid, then.

“Let’s brainstorm a few more ideas,” I tell them. “Nothing sounded good so far.”