There Are No Heroes

Point Of View: Christopher Roosevelt
'You're doing it wrong, idiot,' Magnus spoke in my mind. 'If I'm going to teach you, at least make an effort to pronounce the words correctly.'
The week had been exhausting. I spent my mornings and nights studying the language of this world. In the afternoons, I searched for skilled artisans capable of producing the objects I needed to conduct my business. We had 160 Lyndors left after all the orders I placed, but there was still much material to be purchased and labor to be hired, not to mention the funds needed for my own subsistence.
The morning went as in previous days, with Magnus acting completely arrogantly while trying to teach me. He was a terrible teacher.
'You're just a terrible student,' he replied, reading my thoughts.
The lack of privacy in my own mind irritated me. "That's enough, Magnus. Let's have lunch and then deal with the rest of our business."
'Are you really going to waste the rest of our resources on horse crap?' he asked provocatively. It was obvious he wanted to ruin my appetite. I rolled my eyes and left my room, heading to the lower floor of the building, where a small tavern operated.
The smell of roasted pork and beer filled the air. I took a deep breath, letting the aroma of food fill my lungs. My stomach growled. I walked to the counter and sat on a stool. The bartender, a tall, bald, and muscular man, was shirtless, wearing only an apron. A scar crossed one of his eyes. A former adventurer, perhaps, I thought. By the way, his daughter was very beautiful. A red-haired girl, blessed with a slender body. She wore a simple beige dress and seemed about my current age. She served and cleared the tables.
"Your daughter is very beautiful..." I let slip aloud.
The noise in the tavern ceased instantly. Everyone looked at me. The man in front of me, the bartender, frowned. Magnus laughed in my mind: 'You're such an idiot.'
I immediately tried to remedy the situation: "Sorry, I meant to say I want a portion of pork with apples, a glass of water, and bread with butter."

He stared at me for what felt like an eternity and then turned toward the kitchen.
'I bet he's going to spit in your food,' Magnus commented again. I worried he might be right. The murmurs in the tavern resumed until they became the usual noise. Fortunately, my lunch proceeded without major complications.
Reeling from the embarrassment I had endured during lunch, I went to the streets wearing Magnus's cloak.
'Are you sure wearing this is a good idea?' I asked mentally.
The response came quickly: 'It's good to be respected, and fear is respect. Besides, we'll only be in this city for a few weeks. Drawing attention isn't a problem.'
He was almost entirely right.
'I am always right,' he replied with evident arrogance.
"You don't need to respond to every thought of mine," I thought angrily.
When I arrived at the stables on the outskirts of the city, I saw an old man with a long beard and hunched posture, leaning on a wooden cane.
"Supreme Mage," he bowed. "Do you need a horse?" His hoarse voice denoted his seniority.
"Actually, I came here to negotiate something else..." I paused to think about how to explain what I wanted. "I want to buy the soil where the horses stand."
Magnus hardly needed to help me with the translation at this point. The old man seemed completely lost.
"T-the soil?" he questioned, and without waiting for an answer, he added another question: "Oh great sage, I do not wish to question your wisdom, but could you satisfy this old man's curiosity? Why do you need the soil?"
This was the moment I feared: the moment he would think I was crazy. I took a deep breath and gathered courage.
"The urine and manure of the horses are valuable to me, but they cannot be obtained just any way. They must be those that have remained underground for long periods."
The old man listened to my response in silence. Magnus interrupted: 'I can already see the rumor spreading that the Supreme Mage is interested in horse crap.'
Impatient, I continued: "I will pay 10 Lyndors for the soil, but I am willing to negotiate. Do we have a deal?"
The old man seemed stunned. Ten gold coins for the land should be a good deal.
"Where do you want the soil delivered?" he finally responded. I was satisfied.
"I reserved a small warehouse on the western edge of the city. You can dump it in front. Can you manage that?"
"I may be old, but I can still get the job done," he responded confidently.
I smiled warmly, handing him the coin, and headed toward my dear dwarf's shop, the one who welcomed me to this city.
I took a brief walk, paying attention to the movement on the street. There were several stalls scattered along the sidewalks, selling products from various places across the continent. Despite being a city far from the capital, it was rich in culture. When I arrived at the weapons shop, I gracefully entered through the door, announcing: "Thrain Forgebeard, I have arrived!" I had visited him a few times the previous week, and his animosity towards my presence seemed to have diminished.
"Su-Supreme Mage?" He still stammered. "You arrived earlier than expected." He gave a brief bow.
"I came to check on the status of the order I placed with you and also to request your services." I placed my arms on the counter, letting my weight rest on it.
"The pyrite has already arrived. I am working on grinding it into powder, as you requested." He paused, looking at me with some distrust. "In two more days, the job will be done. Is there anything else you need me to do?"
"Yes, I will leave fifty Lyndors with you. I ordered a softwood delivery. Half of the wood should be burned into charcoal, and a small amount of this charcoal should be burned further until it turns into white ash. I need you to deliver it to the warehouse I rented." I handed him the warehouse key.
"Su-Supreme Mage, if I may be so bold, what are you working on?" he asked, suspicious.
I smiled warmly, wanting to build a good relationship with Thrain. "Something that will put a lot of money in your pocket." I paused, turned toward the door, and finished: "I'm counting on you."