February ~ 10!

CHAPTER 10

Morning came quickly, and Grant awoke early with his new plans front and center in his mind. He left the house and quietly shut the door, not wanting to impact Takato’s sleep. The man had already been kinder than Grant could ever expect, and he needed to leave before he was asked to help again; he wouldn’t have the heart to say no to the old man again.

The smattering of Hajimeni’s houses against the backdrop of paddy fields and the shimmering District barrier was soon a smudge in the distance. Grant took one last look over his shoulder, a strange feeling of loss impacting him as he realized that he needed to continue traveling across the world for the entire year. Any friends he made would be left behind, any impact he had on a region might never be seen. Shaking himself out of his melancholy, Grant took a moment to center himself. His destination was Valentine, and the chance to better himself further.

His trek slowly brought him deeper within the District and across the verdant grasslands. Though he was keeping a lookout for monsters, so far all he had seen skittering through the long grass were a few rabbits. He’d run after one with the full intent to eat it, but it was evident that they were far more than agile enough to escape him. He glared at them and remembered Lady February’s incredible speed. “Too fast for now. Imma eat you someday soon.”

There were exceptions. Namely bright orange monsters that assailed him anywhere from every minute to five minutes, but never longer than that. Getting attacked hurt, and even though any false damage done was reverted after a few moments, it didn’t stop fatigue from accumulating rapidly. Sarge swiftly noticed because Grant began accumulating injuries more rapidly, but only gave the cold answer of, <The next time you break through a mental cultivation stage, this much will be nothing. Can’t get there without doing this, so focus!>

A hawk circling high above caught Grant’s eye. It soared effortlessly, catching updrafts, completely at one with its environment. The hawk suddenly switched direction. Grant was fixated on the bird of prey as it drew its wing in and dropped like an arrow towards the ground. At the last moment, it lifted its wings to slow down, then flapped them wildly. Its outstretched claws snatched something from the grass before powering back up into the sky. From the look of it, it appeared to have caught one of the rabbits that had been eluding Grant thus far. This made him realize that the grass was probably teeming with life, and he just lacked the means to catch any of it.

“Good to know that was just a normal hawk…” He muttered grumpily as hunger started settling in more seriously. This led to a sudden flurry of aerial bombardments from bright orange birds, and he resolved to keep his observations about nature to himself from then on. “Sarge, is this training supposed to help me, or are you literally just trying to mess with me?”

Six fraught hours later, he began to see buildings on the horizon. “That must be Nandayo! I did it! Soon I’ll be able to stop attacking random orange stuff!”

He was so pleased with himself that he actually found a hidden well of energy, and started jogging toward the town. Sarge took this moment to show him that his cautious speedwalk had a reason behind it. Instead of monsters every few minutes, Grant’s loud run ‘attracted attention’, and soon he had a swarm of orange creepy-crawlies after him. Not wanting to ‘die’ due to his inattention, Grant hurried to finish them all off. From that point forward, he made sure to slay everything as soon as he first saw it. There was something about a cluster of spiders the size of hunting dogs chasing you that made you feel better about finding them one at a time.

“So… close!” A short while later, he could make out details on the buildings. Their walls were coated in mud, bleached by the sun, and roofed in simple thatch. Normally he would have expected to see farmworkers working the fields, but crops near the buildings withered in the sun, forgotten. The only activity was runners bounding along the dirt roads, kicking up clouds of dust.

Grant entered the outskirts of the town. There was no sign identifying it, so he made sure to ask the first person he saw, a man that was hammering colored race markers in the ground. “Excuse me. Is this Nandayo?”

“What is it.” The man looked up and did a double take before wiping off the sweat beading his brow. “Yes. Where else would it be?”

“Well, Bert.” Grant checked the man’s name with a quick upward glance, “I’m new around here, and I could’ve ended up anywhere.”

“Nah… hard to get lost.” Bert got back to work. “You’re on a road. Pretty easy system we’ve got here. You stay on a road, you walk into a town. There’s no forks in our roads. Makes people too hungry when they think about ‘em. If you got on the road here, and stayed on it, no where else in the District you could be.”

“Oh? That’s an interesting way of doing things…” Grant mumbled as he continued walking.

“One village every ten miles, one city every fifty. District is two-thousand and seventy-five miles wide, and a perfect square.” Bert rambled on as if he were a tour guide before doing what he did now. “House Thursday laid out the road system, and built up towns. Crazy to think that they’re… basically gone now. Huh. Anywho, the twentieth city you’d reach, a little over a thousand miles east of here, is smack-dab in the center of the District, also the District capital city. Where ya headed?”

“Valentine.” Grant’s skin started to crawl as he had a terrible thought… Bert confirmed it before he could even ask, and Grant nearly sagged into himself.

“Ah, that makes sense. Lots of people headed to the capital for the big tournament. Well, best of luck with that.” Bert kept hammering, and Grant started walking.

“Sure, Bert.” The young man sighed heavily. “Now I miss ice cream. Slithering swords scraping sheathes… a thousand mile trek to reach the capital? Is that possible on foot?”

<If you jog the whole way, let’s say about five miles per hour, you’re looking at only about nine days of continuous running. We can make it pretty easily before the finals, which should be near the end of the month. We got this!> Sarge bellowed in Grant’s mind, making him flinch.

“Who even are you these days, Sarge?” Grant spat as he moved into town.

<A motivating force for change!> The young man had to hide his grin from the sword; it wouldn’t be good to let him know that he liked this sort of treatment. Grant had been craving positivity his whole life, even if it still rankled a little.

The village, basically a collection of ramshackle houses, was smaller than Hajimeni, with far fewer runners bouncing along the dirt paths. The village was clearly nothing more than a brief rest stop; a place for travelers to restock as they either headed to Hajimeni or traveled deeper within the grasslands. With so little to the town, Grant was eager to continue his journey.

He passed the one shop in the center of the village, a health food shop… nope. That was the tavern. He showed his number to the barkeep and was handed a single Bed to slurp down, then Grant looked at the options available for purchase. Sadly… the prices were equally ridiculous here. Even though he had a surplus of Time currently, none of the food was worth stocking up on.

Grant chuckled as he saw a strange little shop on the way out of town, ‘Wagons ‘R’ Us’. The double doors stood open, so he strode inside to see what they were actually selling. “Hello?”

The interior was filled with a multitude of wagons in varying conditions. He liked the look of one with massive wheels banded in shiny steel, with a chassis made of oiled hardwood. It would fit tons of carcasses and pelts! This had clearly been designed for hunting, maybe even having originally been a House Wednesday wagon. He paused and tried to remember if that was correct, “Yeah… they’re supposed to be monster hunters, right?”

“Be right with you, sir.” A bald head poked out from under a wagon. “Just finishing up here.”

Grant waited patiently, just happy to get out of the glare of the direct sunlight. He glanced around at the wagons, imagining himself careening through the grasslands, loading up on valuable carcasses. He would skin the animals, save some meat for himself, then hoard a huge amount of Time by selling the pelts and bones. If the weapon shop he had seen in January was any indication, horns were especially sought after; as they could be crafted into weapons and even armor if they were large enough. “I wonder how I can get one of these…?”

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I just have to finish fixing a wheel, and that’s not something you want to stop doing halfway through a job!” He wiped his oily hands across his overalls and presented his hand to Grant. “Name’s Lucky Leap.”

“You’re a Leap!” Grant gasped in excitement.

“Yeup?” Lucky withdrew his hand and cast a beady eye at Grant. “Ain’t no law against being a Leap, there’s just not many of us.”

“No, no. No issue on my end, I… have a huge affinity for Leaps, is all.” Grant held his hands up in apology. “Back in January, until recently, Leaps weren’t treated with much respect.”

“What can I do for you?” Lucky’s easy smile returned. “Got quite a few wagons ready to go. We have delivery wagons, hunting wagons, and bounty hunter wagons. If you’re heading deeper into the grasslands, you need something to haul food and water along. Only a small town like this every ten miles or so. Most don’t have much in the way of foodstuff.”

“You think I need one just for me?” Grant had been about to ask Lucky if there was anyone he could ride along with, but a term he was unfamiliar with caught his attention. “Bounty hunter wagons? What are those?”

“Guardhouses across the district have wanted posters on boards outside. You catch the bounty, return to the guardhouse with the bounty either dead or alive, depending on the required condition, you get paid.” Lucky pointed his thumb at the wagon, “This is for when you return them alive. A cart would work otherwise.”

“People are paid to do this? I mean, anyone?” Grant corrected himself after he saw the wagoneer give him a strange look. “Not just House Friday, anyone can take bounties here?”

“Oh, I see the confusion!” Lucky nodded briskly, trying to figure out how people just a single District over could be so strange. “Yes, though hunting humans is regulated by House Friday, anyone can claim a bounty. In fact, top bounty hunters are some of the wealthiest people in February.”

Grant considered that for a few moments, but reluctantly turned to the next wagon. “I understand. I’ll keep that in mind. What about the delivery wagons? Any fun facts on that? Before you say it… I understand they are for delivering things, but are there any kind of regulations I’d need to know about?”

“Haha, sure is. They’re regulated by House Thursday, which has been put under the direct control of Lady February… um, recently. She was born a Friday, so tensions are high, as you might imagine. That means some politics if you have one of these, and frequent ‘quality assurance’ checks when going through a town or city.” Lucky cast a meaningful glance at Grant as he said this. “That said, you can make a decent living delivering goods for events and races. There is always the need for people to deliver shakes, bars, even some race equipment. The pay is decent, not quite as much as bounty hunting. Longer routes pay well, but there are risks.”

“Risks?” Grant’s ears perked up. So far, delivering goods sounded boring and especially tedious. “Such as?”

“Bandits. For some reason, banditry has been increasing in huge amounts over the last decade or so. They often target delivery wagons due to the value of their cargo. Drinks and bars are pretty pricey.” Lucky shook his head at the thought of any of his precious wagons falling into the hands of a bandit.

“I am… painfully aware of how expensive they are.” Grant squeezed his empty money pouch and felt his stomach twinge.

“Ha, did you get fleeced?” Lucky chuckled at the sweaty, pale-faced youngster.

“I couldn’t exactly say I was robbed, but I did, um, hand over a substantial amount of Time in Hajimeni.” Grant decided to change the subject before any more could be said on the matter. “Bounty hunting wagons and delivery wagons sound cool and all, but I think what I really need is a hunting wagon. Just a place to pile monsters and bring them into a town or city for selling.”

“Suit yourself.” Lucky waved at the left-hand side of the room. “Let me show you our stock.”

“I know for a fact that I can’t afford it, but to help me form a baseline… how much for that one?” Grant pointed to the biggest hunting wagon, the one with the shiny chrome fittings and oiled hardwood chassis. “Does it come with horses?”

“Horses are your own responsibility, but it does also fit non-standard pulling creatures up to the size of a Corpsewolf. That’s the ‘Huntsman One Hundred’, and has a capacity of fifty carcasses, one hundred large pelts, or a combination of both.” Lucky turned to lock greedy eyes with Grant, “As for the price… six Months.”

Grant didn’t say a word, but his pained expression painted a solid picture for the wagoneer. “I should take into consideration that you’re a young lad, where would you come up with that kind of money? I don’t do this often… but I can sell it for five Months, fifteen Days. It’s worth more, but I need to free up some space in here for a couple more wagons. Before you ask, that is the best price I can possibly offer.”

“Do you have anything… smaller?” Grant shook his head and sighed. “I’ll be honest: cheaper. Anything cheaper?”

Lucky didn’t miss a beat, “Yes, sir. The Huntsman twenty-five, and Huntsman fifty. They can carry a maximum of twenty-five or fifty large pelts respectively. Due to their smaller capacity, they are typically pulled with a single horse.”

“You don’t offer a… payment plan? By any chance?” Grant laughed weakly, getting only a blank stare in return for his efforts.

“Nope. Sorry. It’s Time only. We accept all common currency, Days, Weeks, and Months. Would you like to know the price for these two?” The salesman tone had all but vanished at this point.

“I think I’m wasting your time…” Grant sighed and leaned against one of the gleaming wagons, his vision of becoming a hunter as he was roaming the grasslands fading away as reality set in. “Thanks, Lucky. I’ll be on my way.”

“Hold your horses, Grant!” Lucky walked up to him and clapped both hands on his shoulders. “I have another option… I’m not sure you’d want it. But if you really need a wagon… follow me around the back of the workshop.”

Lucky led them out of the saleroom and out behind, into what was clearly a workshop area. They passed tools and broken wagons leaned up against the back wall, coming to a stop before a ‘wagon’ that was little more than a cart. “Here we are. It might not look like much, but it provided me with years of faithful service. I used it to move tools and parts around.”

“How much is it?” Grant struggled to get excited about the cart in front of him, after experiencing the gleaming wagons. It had hardly any capacity, and the wood was cracked and faded. Even so, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he was looking more like a beggar every day. “It looks… sturdy?”

“Yes. It’s solid. There are quite a few miles left in the old girl yet.” Lucky patted the wood, and it creaked alarmingly.

“The price?” Grant secretly hoped that Lucky would just give the rickety old thing away. No such luck.

“Best price, before I change my mind, is two Days twelve Hours.”

“Please, Lucky.” Grant had a spark of inspiration, “Would it help if I told you that I saved the lives of almost every Leap in District January?”

“That’s cute, but how am I supposed to…” Lucky’s eyes widened as he got a notification from the system. “You’re… exalted with the Leap faction? How? There’s so few that… you were serious.”

All Grant could do was nod, sure that opening his mouth would only lead to failure at this critical juncture. Lucky slowly nodded, looking between the old cart and Grant. “I am truly honored to meet you, Grant Monday. For you, and my people… let this be a gift, my friend.”

“Thank you, Lucky, it-”

The salesman snapped his fingers and pointed at Grant. “You… you’re the one!”

“Huh?”

Lucky shook his head, alarmed suddenly. “A caravan passed through here yesterday. The guards were babbling about the destroyed Januarian trade routes, and that House Monday is searching for anyone with information about it. I don’t get paid to partake in gossip, but was that you?”

“I did what I had to do.” Grant quietly deflected.

“Then… enjoy your new pull cart.” Lucky sighed and started to walk away. “Come tell me your story some day.”

“Thanks.” Grant gripped the cart and started moving, and the wagon *screeched*. “Lucky? The squeal?”

“I won’t charge extra for that.” Lucky chuckled without looking back. “Don’t worry, you won’t notice it after a while.”

Lucky was wrong. Grant pulled the squealing cart out of Nandayo, kicked the wheel in an attempt to quieten it down, but it actually made the noise worse. “If this cart had stats… they’d say ‘the cart will let out a high pitched squeal, alerting all humans and animals within a fifty-yard radius’. Then I’d laugh, maybe do some crying, you never know.”

The patter of running feet made him turn around, a hand on the hilt of his sword. A panting Lucky stopped alongside the cart and pulled out a knife. “I thought I’d missed you there! I wanted to give you this!”

He pushed a rusty blade into Grant’s hands. “It’s not much, but you’ll need a skinning knife. I see you have a sword strapped to your side, but you will struggle to use that to skin an animal. Plus, you don’t want to risk damaging your sword on a tough hide or bones. This knife is certainly disposable.”

“I appreciate that.” Grant pushed the rusty knife to the back of the wagon. He stared at the rusty knife and the creaky wood, thinking that they complimented each other well.

With a wave, Lucky was off, heading back in the direction of his workshop. Grant was alone once again, now the owner of a squeaky pull cart and rusty skinning knife. With no food, and only a single waterskin, living or dying in the grasslands now lay entirely in his hands.

<Interesting choice to be using both hands to pull a cart along.>

“Wha-?” Was all Grant could get out before a huge orange spider that was flying through the air on falcon wings slammed into him and tore into his abdomen with a primordial *Scree*!

“Sarge!”