I’m at the restaurant with Quintus, Tiberius, and my notebook. I jotted down the first question, the one that’s currently stumping me, and I’m looking at it while we wait for the others to arrive.

‘What is the most important attribute of a [Mage]?’

I swear, someone take a gun to my head right now!

What does that even mean?!

The most important attribute? Mana? Not dying? Practice? A big, swinging dong to hypnotize the cannibal Sirens trying to get you?

Oh, yeah, apparently that’s a thing. Not anymore, it seems, but it was a thing. Juicy Sirens who could turn their tails into Human legs; the same creatures who ate people for quite a long time. From what Stanimal told me, it’s an open secret. Many know about it, but the Sirens don’t do that anymore because otherwise, the entire world would go on a crusade to get rid of them once and for all.

The most insane thing is that apparently, one of Vilith’s people, these Vanedenis, lost his marbles one day and dived into the depths of the ocean to kill a famous [Tyrant] Siren.

Insane, yes.

But that does explain Vilith on many levels.

Anyway, less distractions. Come on.

[Single-Minded Focus]

‘What is the most important attribute of a [Mage]?’

It could be an open-ended question. You could give me the best answer for your case or based on your experience, but I’ve already tried that, haven’t I?

Even in my focused state, I only get static as an answer.

I deactivate the skill and put my forehead on the table.

“Any problems, Chef?”

I hear Tiberius’s voice while Quintus is probably nudging him and telling him not to disturb me.

“I’m trying to solve a theoretical question about magic,” I say, propping myself up on my elbows. “The question is fairly simple; ‘what is the most important attribute of a [Mage]?’ but I don’t have a good answer.”

Tiberius looks at me, pondering, while Quintus averts his gaze and moves it toward the main counter of the restaurant.

“Maybe it’s about your spells, Chef?” Tiberius says with a hint of confusion.

Quintus turns sharply to his pal and struggles to keep his mouth shut.

“Quintus, please, speak up. I told you there’s nothing that you shouldn’t be able to say in front of me. We can even badmouth Stan if you want.”

At the mention of badmouthing my manager, they turn pale as a sheet.

“Yo, I was joking,” I sigh. “Come on, Quintus, you have something on your mind, don’t you?”

Quintus looks at Tiberius, almost angry that he got thrown in the middle of the argument. But then, he turns to me and finally speaks. Tiberius is clearly older than Quintus and, in general, less restrained and shy. Quintus, for all he’s very sharp and smart, suffers from some social awkwardness.

“What is the most important thing that makes your magic different from others, Chef? You taught us that everyone worth their salt should have a signature dish and their own style.”

I look at Quintus, and my jaw goes slack.

“Chef, I’m sorry if I overstepped, I probably said something stupid—”

“AH! Quintus! For Pete’s sake! I think that’s it! Every [Mage] has a different path or some bull like that! Incredible!” I start banging my fists on the table, exhilarated. It may sound stupid, but I’m not good at abstractions such as this one. I’m good if I have to apply my baking knowledge and teach it, but when you take things on a higher plane of abstraction, you lose me.

“Joey!” I hear a happy voice coming from behind me.

My soliloquist nature is disturbed by the jolliness of a short and rather pudgy Elf, who would rather lose a finger than miss a free meal.

“Claudius,” I wink at the [Enchanter]. We have grown closer during these months, the scholar and me. Yeah, that’s what he is, a scholar. Apparently, [Enchanters] are the nerds among nerds. Magic itself is no joke and requires extensive studying and practice, but Enchanting is a thing of massive magnitude.

Plus, after the lady advice I had given him, Claudius finally got some action going on for him. I mean, it wasn’t anything ground-breaking. I just told him not to talk about Enchanting for the whole duration of the meal, and he got some ears. Oh right, that’s an Elven expression. I’m getting too comfortable here.

“Stanimal,” I wave at the old man. He’s wearing plain clothes and is walking slowly and deliberately. Grigio at his side eyes everyone and shows a glimpse of his sharp fangs from time to time to discourage wrongdoers from approaching.

The silvery man nods at me and strokes his long beard, which is something almost unique among fair-skinned Elves.

I see a third person with an aloof air about him walk in right behind my Stanimal. And he’s a—

“This is Lakaris,” Stan points at the green-skinned man.

Am I seeing things?

I look at the person like a Frenchman would look at a bar of soap – it’s something I’ve never seen before!

“Are you a Goblin?” I ask with wide eyes.

Said Goblin is wearing simple but elegant clothes lined with leather and decorated with silvery patterns.

“Is this the owner?” the Goblin points a sharp finger at me while speaking to Stan.

“He is, Mr. Lakaris,” Stan nods his head in a small bow.

“Does he have a problem with Goblins?” the [Architect] asks with a non-plussed tone.

“I think he’s just never seen one before.”

Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my side, and I turn to find a pale Claudius.

“Joey! That’s one of the most famous [Architects] in the world! I’ve applied countless times to work under him, but he only selects the best of the best! He doesn’t even care about money! He only takes projects based on how interesting they are!” Claudius looks like he’s on the verge of a seizure.

The high-level [Architect] looks smug after hearing Claudius’s words.

“Well, Lakaris, nice to meet you,” I smile and wave to the other end of the table. “Pardon my manners, but, as Stan said, I’ve simply never seen a Goblin before. Not many races walk around Amorium.”

The Goblin seems slightly assuaged by my apologies and nods.

“Amorium is an architectural marvel, but it’s also at the very center of Epretos. Few races travel so far. Besides Humans, but they usually don’t bear goodwill.”

“Epretos?” I ask, confused.

The Goblin looks as confused as me.

“Yes?” he says.

“Epretos is the continent we are on, Joey,” I hear Stanimal’s voice from the side, clearing up my doubts.

Oh, that’s the name of the continent! Okay!

“You don’t know—” Lakaris almost chokes on his spit and starts coughing, surprised by my ignorance.

“No reason why I should bother with information I don’t need. Knowing or not knowing the name of the continent is hardly useful, now, is it?”

Claudius is fidgeting so hard by my side I’m forced to shoot a hard stare at him. This guy really likes the green fellow, doesn’t he? Well, I’ll try playing nice if it means Claudius gets his internship or whatever.

“So, Mr. Lakaris,” I say with a big smile. “What brings you here?”

The Goblin seems to have decided I’m a complete idiot because he stares at me for a couple of seconds before looking at Stan.

“Is he serious?”

“He has no idea who you are and why I called you,” the old man replies with some mirth between his eyes.

“I don’t know what strings you pulled,” Lakaris says, looking at Stan with some diffidence, “but my patience has limits. And my time is even more limited.”

“Joey,” Stanimal is addressing me now, “Mr. Lakaris is an [Architect] of the finest kind. I submitted a request for construction to the city and got it approved, but only as long as he’s the one doing the job. It’s an honor having him redesign a part of the city, you know?”

Oh, you old fox. I know what you are doing. Yeah, yeah, let’s go along with the flattery.

“He does look very professional,” I nod amiably, “I’m sorry, Mr. Lakaris, I’m just very ignorant about the world. I guess Stanimal hired you to work on the bakery and the other buildings. Or whatever. It doesn’t really matter. Do you need my input, or do you just do your thing?”

The Goblin is chewing the inside of his mouth and has a dark look on his face. His big nose is looking more and more like a gleaming hook on the hand of a dangerous pirate.

“Are you a [Jester]? You have a meeting with me, and you don’t have any idea of what the procedure is? Why should I even work with you, then? Can you even afford me?”

“In order: I’m not a jester; no idea about any procedures, Stanimal takes care of that stuff; I have no interest in working with a rude person, but if you can do a fine job, why not; I have no idea whether we can afford you or not,” I look at Stan while saying the last part.

“Oh, we can afford him. Even a couple of ‘hims,’ really,” the old man laughs. But this time, it’s a powerful laugh, the kind infused with whoever he really is. The pressure of his levels came out in full swing, making everyone at the table feel like they were about to be squashed like tiny insects.

Lakaris looks wary now.

“Let’s talk, then,” he says while eyeing the exit.