February ~ 15!

CHAPTER 15

Thirty-one hours into their forced march, Grant’s stomach began to metaphorically scream and weep as they power-walked through the grasslands. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, and dark clouds roiled in the distance as the afternoon shifted toward evening.

“I don’t like the look of those clouds,” Grant mumbled to himself as he stared at the strange patterns appearing in the heavens.

“Did you say something?” Waylon’s tired voice gave Grant a strange feeling of vindication. Even though Grant was exhausted, it seemed that he had more staying power and endurance than this Wielder of House Wednesday.

“I was thinking about the clouds. I don’t like the look of them.” Grant explained, even though he had no real justification for the way he was feeling.

“If we are lucky, they may pass us by. You can go for weeks here without a drop of rain, then suddenly a downpour comes out of nowhere and soaks you through.” Waylon was flagging, clearly he was having trouble staying awake right now.

They had already walked through the fourth town on this road, and had less than ten miles to go to get to a city—more specifically a monster hunting enclave. That made Grant realize that he was woefully uninformed about the politics of this District. Deciding that he could get some information as well as help his traveling companion stay awake, he began quizzing Waylon. “Can you tell me about the Houses?”

“You're a Noble and don’t know about the Houses?” Waylon gave him a strange look that was only tempered by exhaustion. “How is that possible?”

Grant had a ready answer for once, “I do know about the Houses in January. I was just wondering if it all worked the same here. In January people are more focused on feasting and partying than the ins and outs of learning, or… thinking too hard.”

Waylon nodded slowly, “That explains… I mean, I see. Where do you want me to start?”

“I know all about House Tuesday, the Peacekeepers. For… reasons. Why don’t you start with your House, House Wednesday?” Grant figured it would be best to let the man discuss whatever he was most passionate about.

“Alright. I can do that. First off… we’re awesome. House Wednesday is focused on logistics, specifically the logistics of hunting monsters and turning them into gear so that, um, so that we can hunt more powerful monsters. To be highly effective, we have to accumulate the best gear, which can only be found by hunting the rarest beasts and monsters. We don’t tend to fight other people, preferring to use our skills against beasts—but we will if needed. As a point of fact, we often train members of House Friday to deal with overwhelming situations such as their bounties being bandit lords with dozens of subordinates.”

“How does that work? The whole turning monsters into gear?” Grant tried to inject enthusiasm into his voice, but he was just too tired. Between the sparks racing through his body, and the sensory hallucinations from February Twenty Nine as well as food and sleep deprivation, he just barely had anything left over to think with. Holding a proper conversation? Bah.

“Just like working regular animals or metals into armor and weapons.” Waylon had perked up significantly. “You know how more powerful creatures have skills and can use spell-like abilities? That transfers almost directly into the gear we make. Look at the hallmarks of the different gear stages-”

“Wait, wait!” Grant’s interruption threw off the twenty-something-year-old, “I know that gear is more powerful in the higher stages, what are you saying about… hallmarks?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Just because you make a snake fang from a Summer-stage monster into a dagger doesn’t mean the weapon will be a Summer-stage weapon.” Waylon didn’t make Grant wait for the answer, thankfully. “There are two requirements that must be fulfilled for a weapon or armor to be considered at a new stage. Think about Spring gear, basically just a set of weapons and armor with no special effects unless you start considering alchemical junk, right?”

“Junk?” Grant was surprised at the dismissive attitude toward life-altering medicines.

“Yeah, we consider anything single-use, consumables, to be junk.” Waylon nodded seriously, his lips pressing into a hard line. “It might be useful junk, expensive junk, but at the end of the day it isn’t something you can rely upon for longer than a moment before it’s gone. Read as: junk.”

“But… a huge amount of alchemical needs are fulfilled with monster parts, right?” Grant looked back at the wagon full of alchemically altered rations that Waylon still wouldn’t let them break into. “Don’t you guys do that? Sell the parts to alchemists?”

“Yeah, but House Saturday is all about single-use items.” Waylon shook his head, even as Grant gave him a sharp glance. “They only produce a single elixir to sell per year, and we know they could make a ton of them if they wanted to do it. Instead, they make potions and pills that give short-term increases, just to make sure that people always need to keep coming back and buying from them. Such misers.”

“That is what House Saturday is known as? Misers and alchemists?” Grant cautiously probed.

“Obviously.” Waylon showed Grant an arched brow, “Is it different where you come from?”

“Nope.” Grant did his best to put this conversation behind them, already breaking into a sweat thinking about assassins coming after him for letting the Januarian open secret about Saturday out into the population. “Um… in that case, what about Summer gear?”

“Right, right.” Waylon’s smile returned as he stared dreamily off into the distance. “Spring gear is basically only good as throwaway training material. Not junk, exactly, but close… even though that’s pretty much all we have here that isn’t a relic from before the District Barriers went up. Summer gear actually offers decent protection and damage, which is the first marker for that type. The lightest weapons have to deal at least a base of twenty damage, or damage reduction for armor.”

That was stunning to Grant. He took a look at his current weapons and armor, noting that they had a base damage or armor rating of two. That was for Early Spring Medium armor, so…! “Wait, that actually makes sense. It’s an entire large rank higher, or three small ranks up from what I’ve got now.”

“Right? I saw that your armor was a little… ratty. Sorry, not trying to be offensive. Just truthful.” Waylon shrugged, making the entire wagon bob behind him. “Your sword, is it really a Wielded Weapon? I’ve never seen one so dull.”

“How about you just tell me about the other identifier for high-quality goods?” Grant gripped the hilt of February Twenty Nine defensively, trying not to be offended by this tactless man.

“Right… the single largest change is that there is enough essence, or maybe mana, stuffed into the item that new effects are added to it.” Waylon’s eyes were bright as he thought about someday seeing such legendary items. “The Summer ranks allow your stuff to have a single-target elemental effect on hit. It’s entirely based on what the item was made from, but… fire, earth, water, or wind. That could mean anything, so don’t think it’s just an elemental blast. For instance, you have these fangs. If they were from a Summer monster, and made into gear, they might have a water effect of poisoning on hit, or an earth effect of armor penetration.”

“How is that ‘elemental’?” Grant’s question only got him a shrug in reply. “Okay… the armor, then?”

“When it gets hit.” Waylon explained easily. “Imagine a cuirass that causes a windy knockback if you take a rib-shot.”

Grant was silent as he tried to imagine how potent that kind of gear would be if he could wear it right now. He’d be unstoppable in January, and nearly so in February. “Then… the higher-ranked gear is even better?”

“But of course.” Waylon laughed excitedly. “I’ve read in the histories that Autumn gear’s weakest damage or armor base value sits at forty, and Winter at sixty. Now, at each one, a new effect is added to the stuff. You keep the on-hit elemental effect, but at Autumn it impacts an area-of-effect. Watch someone hit a shield, and a thirty-foot cone of flames erupt out of the shield in retaliation! At Winter…”

Waylon physically shuddered in excitement at the thought, “An elemental effect, plus area of effect with no hit needed. Do you even understand what that means? I would swing my sword through the air, and fireballs would go out and explode as if I was a pure spellcaster! Someone tries to hit my armor, they and their entire group freeze solid!”

Grant decided on the spot that the first thing he would be doing whenever he entered a new District was buying the best armor he could possibly find. “They just… function? There has to be a cost, right?”

“Mainly mana, it really depends on what you want out of it.” Waylon’s explanation was sketchy this time, and Grant realized that it was because the other man didn’t know much more information about gear that hadn’t been common in this area for a thousand years. “Maybe there’s something they can use to power them, if they don’t cultivate mental stats?”

Deciding it was time to switch tracks to help his companion save face, Grant asked the first thing that popped into his head, “In January, House Thursday are merchants and are the ones that set up supply lines, but I heard that something changed here?”

“They were stripped of their wealth and status, almost to a man. You may notice me, a Wednesday, doing what was historically their career.” Waylon’s voice was hard. “The sole focus in House Thursday was maximizing profit. They aren’t particularly good in combat, but make up for that by hiring mercenary forces or defending themselves within heavily fortified outposts. This translated into letting their people suffer and go unprotected while they partied. The restructuring of our District started with them, but they were so well-defended that I think Lady February actually defeated the final member while she was on the mega-marathon route.”

“She took time… in the middle of a marathon a hundred miles long… to topple a Wielder?” Grant’s awe and fear of this individual only increased each time he got to hear something new about her.

“Called it her running break, even.” Waylon had a dreamy look back on his face. “She’s everyone’s idol. That’s another reason no one wants anyone to win this competition… no one feels like they can match up, but they know that no one else will either. No one deserves someone like her!”

“You need a nap.” Grant deadpanned.

“Your face needs a nap.” Waylon giggled wildly at his joke.

Grant snorted at that, “Ugh. Well, at least from what you have told me, there isn’t much difference in the Houses between our Districts. One last thing, kinda changing topics here, I was wondering why you were so ready to toss me a spellbook?”

“Well… I…” From his uneasy look, it didn’t appear that Waylon wanted to discuss the topic. Grant was going to let it go, but the man sighed and shrugged, “Okay, it’s just that spells are seen as training tools at best, and a crutch for the weak at worst, unless you actually have a mental cultivation manual. Even then, you gain so little mana with each increase that they don’t become a true threat for decades. They are for weak Vassals, or Wielders who get their weapons as children and need a small edge right away. I couldn’t believe you wanted something like that… then I realized that you, um, need every training tool you can get.”

“You Februarians are so funny.” Grant chortled as he felt a renewed surge of electricity make his eyes start twitching. “Winning is what matters. So what if people think spells are useless? I don’t have anything to prove. It's actually nice to know that while I’ll do whatever it takes to win…”

“…they’ll give up power for no real reason.”