February ~ 3!

CHAPTER 3

“What’s happening!” The blasting of horns had just wrenched Grant from a deep sleep. A snare drum made a rat-a-tat noise as he rushed to roll up his bedroll and stuff it into his pack.

“Hey! Who’s over there?”

Footsteps crunched through the hay, and Grant panic-yelled, “Sorry, I took a wrong turn!”

“No one is allowed to be in here. Get on your way before I call the guards!” Grant barged past the elderly man wielding a pitchfork. He considered hanging around to help the man with his chores; from the state of the stables, the old man was struggling. Sadly, Grant didn’t have the time to make that happen; he needed to go investigate the cacophony of noise.

Not far from the stables, spectators squeezed into the narrow streets, craning their necks for an opportunity to see the marching band as it passed by. Grant had to jump to see over their heads to catch glimpses of the brightly dressed band members, hammering on drums, blowing into horns, and playing other instruments he didn’t recognize. There was no explanation as to why so many people were up at the break of dawn, but this was February… the people were a little different.

Unable to get a better view of the band, Grant decided to leave the packed streets and find an alternative vantage point. Walking along a parallel side street, food vendor carts came into view. His stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten breakfast, and he scampered over hopefully to the nearest stand, still somewhat wary after last night’s episode in what just had to be a health food shop.

<Grant, I need to tell you,> Sarge chuckled darkly as he imagined Grant’s forthcoming despair, <I’m once again delighted with the selection of food on offer.>

Grant’s heart sank and his stomach rumbled in protest. Laid out before him were low-quality protein shakes, orange slices, and strangely crunchy-looking grains. He pointed to a small bar. “How much for one of those?”

“Good morning, young man, and what a wonderful morning it is too! This nutritious granola bar can be yours for only one single Hour! A bargain at any price, but even more at this one!” The skinny vendor was wearing shorts, a tight top, and an orange headband. He looked like he was ready to leave his stand and join a race.

“Those are your best prices?” Grant backed away from the stall instantly. “Sure, a… bargain. If you don’t mind me asking, are you taking part in one of the matches?”

“Oh? No, no. I just enjoy the atmosphere. I would take part but I broke my ankle a few years back during a race.” The vendor looked down sadly at his leg. “I was in the lead as well. Could have won if that root hadn’t jumped out of nowhere and ended my chances. Well, back then the rewards weren’t for positions in the Nobility, but you could still impress a Wielder and gain Vassalship.”

“I see.” Grant’s stomach clenched and he inhaled sharply before waving at a different section. “How much is one of those pink drinks?”

“Gum-tree protein shakes are two Hours. Get it while you can. They’ll sell out by lunchtime.” The vendor reached for the mug as if the sale was a done deal.

“What! You can’t be serious!” Grant’s head spun at the exorbitant prices of food in this area. “Water! Simple water. How much to fill up my water skin?”

“That will be forty-five Minutes.” Grant’s mouth hit the floor. He was lost for words. “This is no ordinary water. It is spring water from Mount Yama. Rich in minerals. Perfect refreshment for the aspiring athlete.”

“You’re pulling my leg aren’t you?” Grant looked around, assuming that he was talking to an actual thief, but people were actually lining up behind him after the vendor had listed his prices. “You probably filled your tank from one of the paddy fields up the road!”

“I wouldn’t dare do such a thing.” The vendor’s smile vanished as the people around Grant gasped at the accusation. “I’m an honorable food vendor, here to serve the citizens of February! All prices are approved by Lady February’s council, and all food and drink sources are required to meet rigorous standards. If we are found to be cheating someone, there is nothing at the other end, except never being able to make a sale again! The price for one of our bars and enough spring mineral water for your waterskin is two Hours. Take it or leave it!”

Grant’s eyes flitted between the various unappetizing choices and the angered crowd. “I meant no offense.”

The vendor glared at him and pointed at the people behind Grant. “Make your selection and be on your way.”

Grant handed over two one Hour coins to the unsmiling food vendor. He held on tightly to the second coin, unwilling to part with it in exchange for some water.

“Let go!” The vendor stumbled backward as Grant released his grip. “Before you go, would you like to enhance your meal? All proceeds go to the charity, Run with-”

“I will certainly not!” Grant scoffed at the idea of handing over any more of his swiftly dwindling coins. The food vendor shook his head in pity as he filled up Grant’s water skin.

“Here. Enjoy.”

Grant took his tiny portion of food and escaped the rapidly growing line that had formed behind him. Several runners glared at him as he passed as he made his way towards the end of the street, finally able to get across now that the band had vanished into the distance.

“Mommy.” A toddler tugged at her mother’s hand. “Why is that huge man standing in the road? Is he part of the parade?”

“No. You stay away from him. The poor soul is clearly unwell.” She looked over at Grant and winced, hurrying to pull the child away before they decided to ask more awkward questions. “Throw a coin to him. Hopefully, he’ll find a way to get better.”

An Hour coin was flicked at him from the child, which he quickly snatched out of the air and pocketed. Embarrassing as it was, money was money, and he had no problem accepting it; though he did wonder what everyone was doing to be so incredibly wealthy around here. Grant felt a stab of pain in his chest at the way people perceived him. They saw him as someone to pity, for the exact opposite reasons as his life in January. His head hurt, and he decided that he needed to sit down.

After pushing through the lingering spectators, he headed toward a statue with a plaque that read ‘Lord February’. Thankfully, the gleaming bronze statue was clear of spectators and even had a small bench that the people seemed to evade as though it were ground zero for a plague. To Grant, it was too good an opportunity to pass on.

“I hope you don’t mind, fellow Lord, if I make myself comfortable? At least I know what the Lord of the Month looks like now. Strange, I thought people were talking about a ‘Lady’ in charge?” The statue didn’t answer as he settled in on the bench to catch his breath and eat the… food. The bar was bland and disappointing, tasting more like tree bark than an edible meal. The water was surprisingly cool and refreshing, quenching his thirst completely and making him feel more awake than he had the entire previous day. “Alright, maybe there’s something to be said for high standards for food and water.”

With his hunger very temporarily satisfied, he found that he was enjoying himself and the break from fighting or training. The early morning sun cast long shadows. The shadow of the statue moved inch by inch as the sun lazily made its way higher into the sky. He nearly dozed off, but a thunder of footsteps rapidly approaching brought him back to full attention. From his place by the statue, he would have an uninterrupted view of whatever or whoever was about to emerge from around the corner.

Grant cupped his eyes as he focused past the banner highlighting the name of the event, the ‘Pre-Tournament Mega Marathon’.

“Here she comes!” A front-row spectator screeched excitedly. “I can’t believe she came here!”

Grant had no idea who ‘she’ was, but the din of rapidly approaching feet intensified, filling the square, countered only by clapping and cheering from the crowd. He couldn’t help but feel excited as he waited for the swarm of runners to appear.

“There must be hundreds of people running through here!” He could feel the vibration through the statue, glad that he was watching rather than participating in the huge river of bodies that must be charging along the road. The cheering swelled to a roar, and Grant noticed a pink-haired woman come into view, sprinting towards him. As the lady approached, he realized that it was a runner wearing a number plate with a stylized ‘one’ on it, and she was wearing perfectly white gloves that went up to her elbows.

Her legs were a blur, knees pumping hard as she blazed a path directly toward the statue. If Grant was reading the signs correctly, she would have to go around the statue and exit from the north of the square. This would give him a moment to view the first place runner, and he was starting to see why people got so into the tournament: this was somehow exciting.

“If I could run like that, I’d make my way across February in a matter of days.” He just had to find the ruler of February somewhere out there within the district. At least he now knew what to look for. Grant’s eyes flicked up at the statue, then back to admiring the runner.

He wanted to be able to zoom around like this; he’d be able to cover the miles with ease in search of his target. The nearly fluid woman barreled toward him and took the corner as wide as possible, not even slowing down. Grant waved down at the speedy woman from the bench at the base of the statue, unable to help himself from being carried away by the wave of excitement passing through the crowd.

“Go, pinky, go!” As the pink-haired, glove-wearing woman passed, she flashed a glare at Grant sitting next to the statue. A tingle shot through him as her awareness briefly fell on him; he blushed and felt strangely privileged that he had been noticed… then she was gone. There was a collective sigh from the crowd as she exited the square. Grant looked around, still able to hear the rumble of pounding feet, but unable to see more participants. “Where are the rest of the mega-marathon runners?”

At least five minutes later the second-place runner stumbled into view. The man who approached the statue looked ready to collapse at any moment. He stopped to take a drink that was offered; his arms trembling as he downed one of the green ‘Bed’ drinks. After a few deep breaths, he worked up the energy to continue. The sweaty, exhausted mess of a man ran after the pink-haired woman. Even to Grant, it was clear that he’d never win the race. At this point, he could run faster than this twig of a man.

Once the second-place runner had exited the square, most of the spectators started to disperse, the entertainment apparently over. Grant hopped to his feet and approached the nearest person. “Please pardon my intrusion. Is it all over? Were there only two runners?”

“What? No! Thousands take part. The rest will pass through here throughout the morning. You can’t have a mega-marathon with only two runners!” The man was edging away from Grant, bouncing on his toes. He was clearly energized by seeing the runners, and was about to go do his own routines.

“That… makes sense. Where is everyone going?” Grant looked into the distance, hoping that he’d be able to see the impressive runner once more.

“People are only interested in seeing the first two competitors.” The man started moving faster, but Grant tried to keep up with him and continue his information gathering. “Please back off a little, buddy.”

Grant couldn’t contain himself, he ignored the concerned tone from the man he was inadvertently stalking. “That guy… the shaky one, was running slowly. I could have beat him, why was anyone interested in seeing him?”

“I have… doubts about your ability to defeat him in long-distance competitions.” The man was obviously doing his best not to insult Grant, but was still trying to subtly escape. “After ninety miles, he was almost completely spent.”

“You’re joking.” Grant deadpanned, but the other man simply shrugged. “Ninety miles? How long is the marathon?”

“One hundred miles exactly.” The man pointed right at the runner that was competing and running nearly drunkenly. “That’s why we wanted to see the second person. First place was never in doubt, but whoever steps over the finish line right after Lady February is guaranteed to at least place. That man is a future Wielder for certain, and is going to be a Noble that might eventually control the area we live in.”

Grant was astounded by the information, completely uncertain how he should be feeling. “That… was Lady February? Is she the Lady of The Month? The pink-haired one? She looked right at me… I had no idea who she was. Maybe she recognized me, somehow?”

“What is there to recognize, you-?” The man forcibly halted himself and took a few deep breaths. “Look, kid. She looked up at you because you were sitting at the feet of the statue. That’s a Very Bad Thing for you.”

“Why does that matter?” Grant looked up at the benevolent face on the statue, wondering at the same time why the man had enunciated the warning so clearly. “He seems like a nice guy, and how can there be a Lord and Lady of the month? Are they married? She seemed almost my age, so that kinda-”

The man sputtered so hard that Grant thought that he was having a fit. “That’s the statue of her late father, the previous Lord February! Sitting on the bench of the man who hated the lazy is seen as a direct challenge. He started changing this District ten years ago, and sitting there means you think you have contributed enough to society that you feel you can relax even under his watchful stare! If she sees and recognizes you, I’m sure she’s going to challenge you to prove that you had the right to be sitting in her presence, at the foot of her father!”

Grant then watched the man storm off; his mouth open and his face as pale as a sheet.