Dokeshi March ~ P-1!

Prologue

A man bearing a sealed envelope with the violet-hued wax seal of House Sunday hurried down a dark hallway, his uniform a combination of garish colors and sparkling sequins. His balding head was beaded with sweat, and a look of fear crossed his features. As he opened the door to the room overlooking the main gambling floor, he had to shield his eyes from the glare of the brightly flashing lights that shone through the one-way glass. He took a deep breath to steel himself, and walked through the semi-crowded room to approach the masked figure sitting on the throne.

“Lord March! I come with news from the border of February. Your agents from House Sunday have sent a missive through their artifacts, claiming that the man responsible for the death of Lord January has now kidnapped Lady February and is headed this way!” He passed the letter to the exceedingly large man standing near the Lord’s right hand. The huge man wearing a mask covered in hearts and bubbles didn’t move, instead remaining focused on the table where several men and women were playing cards below. He did lightly wince as the Lord of the Month next to him stiffened slightly. “They passed through the barrier three days ago and haven’t been seen since. What would you like us to do, Lord March?”

Not getting the reaction he was expecting, the messenger leaned forward to see what held the focus of the most powerful man in the entire district. “Lord March, we can mobilize your forces within the hour and bring them to you. All you need to do is say the word!”

Shock rippled through the advisors and sycophants spread around the room like lightning. They gasped, murmuring in raised whispers… but not about the news. They were silenced by the flash of rainbow light emitting from the diamond set into the scepter held by the Lord of the Month, and regarded the messenger with pity in their eyes.

“Three times.” The mad smile was the only facial feature visible on the ruler of District March’s face, the rest hidden by a mask with a pattern that shifted and swayed according to the wearer’s mood. “Three. Times. You called me by a name I have banned!”

“Oh. Oh, no. I didn’t-” The man doubled over in pain, unable to speak after another flash of light erupted from the scepter. The sound of flesh being impacted by the invisible fists that pounded the man was the only interruption in the sudden silence.

“I am not a traditionalist, stuck in my ways. Some dusty old man!” A flash of light, and the sound of another blast striking the prone messenger accompanied his words. “Don’t forget The Rules!” Another flash of light, another blow to the poor man’s body. “You will call me by my title: Dokeshi March!”

A final blow struck the man in the temple, sending him into an unconscious heap on the floor. Dokeshi March focused his gaze upon the rest of the room to ensure that everyone got the message… before turning back to observe the table below.

“Dokeshi, would you… heehee… like me to prepare the troops?” The enormous masked man waved for the pitiful messenger to be carried off by the Dicemen, the new name of the Royal Guard. “He was correct about one thing: we could bring the interlopers to you quickly.”

The mask shifted to display the painted face of a bored and irritated jester. “Don’t bother, Cuddles. Even if he does come after me…” He pushed a button on a small console near the arm of the throne and watched as one of the cards in the hands of the players below switched from a three of diamonds to an ace of spades. “The house always wins.”

“As you know…” The mad smile crept back to the Dokeshi’s face. “I am the House.”

Chapter 1

Two people stepped out of the barrier dividing the districts of February and March, bringing a storm of energy along with them. Their impressive silhouettes stood firm against the sparks of static electricity that danced around them, for a bare moment. Suddenly, the one in banded armor fell to his knees with a yelp of surprise as one last jolt of energy shoved him forward. His companion—a young woman with shockingly pink hair who was garbed in workout clothes and bright elbow-length white gloves—raised an elegantly curved eyebrow at her companion.

“That isn’t how the Lord of January and February should make an entrance, you know.” Suki, formerly known as Lady February or Pugilist Friday—depending on who you asked—bent down and helped Grant to his feet. “You’re lucky I was the only person to see it, or you would have lost all face. We should announce ourselves and get escorted to Lord March.”

“How was that my fault? That could have taken off my face? Has that happened before? Wait, you think we can just get right to…?” Grant spluttered in protest before spotting the upturned corners of Suki’s mouth. “You’re joking with me?”

<Wow, Grant. It looks like that big surge in mental cultivation is already paying off.> Sarge, the sword spirit bound within February Twenty Nine—Grant’s Wielded Weapon—just had to add insult to injury. Adding injury was probably the thing he was best at, which made sense… as he was a sword. <I guess I’ll have to come up with some new ways to train your mental cultivation… hmm. Since you can barely read, keeping you awake for a week or two is probably the fastest way to increase that characteristic!>

Grant opened his mouth to argue, but Sarge didn’t give him a chance to speak. <You’re already down to ten months of life left, and it only gets harder from here on out. You’re going to have to be even more focused on improving yourself, now that you’re finally in the Late Spring District. Monsters will be stronger here, and so will the people you have to fight. On the plus side, greater danger means greater growth.>

The young Lord was pulled from the one-sided mental conversation by Suki playfully thumping him with her fist on his armored shoulder. “Yes, I’m messing with you.”

He clammed up, still unused to any kind of friendly… anything. Certainly not from a beautiful woman who planned to marry him after only interacting for him for less than a day of total time. Suki blew a burst of air from her nostrils and carefully inspected the bright lights and fancy buildings of the area they had landed in. “It appears we’ve entered into one of the neighborhoods of March.”

Grant peered around, truly noticing his surroundings for the first time. They had emerged in a dark alleyway, just off what looked like some kind of entertainment area. He could see vendors behind stalls loaded down with goods, lined up next to buildings that appeared to be theaters and fancy hotels. He shifted his gaze to Suki. “Do you know where we are? As Lady February, I’m sure you traveled into March all the time.”

“Wait, no. Hold that thought.” He pointed at a particular stall covered in sweet treats, with a beautiful three-tiered cake as the centerpiece. “I see something I need to buy.”

Suki reached out and grabbed Grant by the collar, hauling him back to her side and pulling a strangled *ulp* from him. “Wait. Before we go out there, we need to go over a few things.”

She held up a finger and waggled it in his face. “One: don’t ever refer to me as Lady February while we are in March. Only traders from House Thursday have been allowed entrance to here for hundreds of years, and the rumors I have heard about this place haven’t been good in the slightest. I don’t want to think about what might happen if they find out who I really am. Besides, I’m not technically Lady February anymore; not until we get married. Then you can call me Lady February again. After you unite the twelve districts and bring down the barriers, you can call me Queen.”

“You’re still on that-” Grant gulped as she glared at him, and he thought over her demands for marriage. As interested as he was in making that happen, it was vastly secondary. His eyes flickered over to a screen that displayed his true reason for being here: a Legendary Quest that would kill him in just ten months if he didn’t finish it. A drop of cold sweat dripped down his spine as he read.

Quest: Heal the World (Lvl 100. Legendary.)

Grant Leap, by picking up the Wielded Weapon ‘February Twenty Nine’, you will be henceforth known as Grant Monday and will gain one cultivation level automatically, no matter how much cultivation would otherwise be required.

Important Information: The Wielder of February Twenty Nine, Grant Monday, has one year to gather the power of the Lords of the Month and return February Twenty Nine to the status of a completed Wielded Weapon. (Current Progress: 2/12)

Rewards: Completion of the quest, Heal the World, will result in the reward of the title ‘Calendar King’ and all wealth and responsibilities associated with that position, along with the ability to wield the most powerful weapon in the world.

Failure Conditions: Failure to complete the mandatory quest ‘Heal the World’ within one year will result in the loss of all cultivation levels gained since the acquisition of February Twenty Nine, plus the loss of an additional one level.

Since Grant had been at cultivation level zero when he picked up the weapon, it meant he would drop below zero and die a most terrible death. How terrible, he wasn’t sure, but he was convinced it would be an awful way to go. Suki poked him in the nose, forcing him to dismiss the screen in front of him. “Focus, Grant. This is important.”

A second finger was raised in front of his nose. “Second thing to remember: This District isn’t anything like January or February. People here cannot be trusted. As shocking as it was for you to come to February… think about how terrible this place could be.”

“Look, I have some experience dealing with culture shock. I’m sure they can’t all be as bad as Fe… January.” He changed his words at Suki’s inquisitive glare, then pointed to the woman selling the cake in the distance. “I mean, they at least eat cake here, unlike the cultivation maniac, err, Physical Cultivators you’ve raised to eat nothing but wheatgrass smoothies and granola.”

She pressed her lips into a firm line, her eyes boring into him before holding up a third finger. “Third, try not to start any fights. I have only read reports from the few people that pass between the districts, but they all say the same thing. Fighting in March is a very bad idea.”

“That’s it? No details beyond ‘it’s bad to fight’? I don’t like fighting people.” He shrugged, shifting his new armor on his shoulders. “I only need to defeat Lord March. That’s the fight that really matters. I’ll try not to fight anyone else if I can avoid it.”

Grant pulled up his status, reviewing the recent gains he had earned in District February.

Name: Grant Monday

Rank: Lord of The Month (January, February)

Class: Foundation Cultivator

Cultivation Achievement Level: 17

Cultivation Stage: Mid Summer

Inherent Abilities: Swirling Seasons Cultivation

Health: 352/352

Mana: 19/19

Physical: 201

Mental: 76

Armor Proficiency: 111

Weapon Proficiency: 149

Late Spring Medium Ornate Banded Mail armor. Full set: Head, Torso, Legs.

Total Physical Damage Decrease per set item (Includes Cultivation bonus): 50.

Total Magical Damage Decrease per set item (Includes Cultivation bonus): 50

February Twenty Nine (Considered as a Late Spring Medium weapon due to Weapon/Armor synergy)

Total Damage increase: 61. (Base weapon increase: 14. Weapon Cultivation increase: 47.)

Critical hit maximum damage: 93

At least with those numbers, he had a chance to do some real damage to his opponents. Sarge seemed excited to be here, but hid it behind a thin veil of insults. <She clearly doesn’t know you very well. I bet we get in a fight within the first hour. You are the best, the pinnacle, the acme of attracting bad luck. Better than anyone I’ve ever even heard of, and that’s including in tall tales.>

“Sarge, it isn’t my fault that I’m a calamity attractor.” Grant frowned down at the sword sheathed on his hip. “I don’t start fights with other people; they go out of their way to-”

<I think it’s your face. You have a very punchable face.> Sarge’s musings were too much for Grant. Before he could ask if there was a way to fix that particular issue, his stomach growled at the scent of baking bread and grilled meat drifting down the alley. He started walking toward the smells, dragging Suki behind him. Her heels were dug in, but it did no good. His stomach wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and his physical cultivation had reached a point where she could only stop him by using real force against him.

Grant hadn’t had anything but rabbit food for a month, and he was willing to stab someone in the face for a steak.