February ~ 2!

CHAPTER 2

Grant walked along the side of the main road, trying to figure out what to do next. ‘Joggers’, apparently some subspecies of humans, were passing him on either side. Some smiled, and others waved as well when they passed. After the first hour of this, the super positivity was wearing on him. It didn’t help that there was apparently something here that made people look really similar, he could have sworn that this person had already ran past him with a smile and a wave seven times on this strangely springy road.

He was used to January, where the most exercise anyone got was lifting a heavily laden fork from their plate to their mouth. It was hard to believe that he had defeated Lord January, taken his power, and traveled through the barrier to February in only the last few hours. Grant grumbled as his stomach clenched, and he winced as he realized that he hadn’t had a decent meal since he’d left the Leap sanctuary in the sewers under Castle January.

“I better find somewhere that sells food. I think Time can be spent in any District, so I should certainly have enough to get me through in the short-term.” Even the thought of biting into a juicy steak was making his mouth water. “Sword Expertise, no, Sword Grandmastery now, will probably fight me if I go overboard, but I’m sure I can find something.”

“You, on the track! You’re going the wrong way!” A carriage driver yelled as he pulled up next to him, strangely on a road that was right next to the one he was walking on. That turned into a caravan of carriages snaking its way from the grasslands, one that was apparently never-ending. A group of energetic runners bounded out of the carriage, whooping and hollering as they pumped themselves up for their upcoming races. To Grant, they looked painfully thin, a stiff breeze capable of blowing them over.

“Hey! Look at this guy getting out there and doing the right thing!” A competitor ran over and slapped Grant on the back. “Keep running, dude. You are wildly impressive to come out here and better yourself like this, and I would love to be your pacer to help keep you motivated!”

Grant nodded and gritted his teeth, not entirely sure what was happening. In January, people thought he was weird for training with a sword and performing any weapon cultivation, but here, he was seen as… what? A child that needed help just to do some minimal training? The people of February were friendly enough, but it was clear what they thought of his portly physique.

The people jostled him until he finally turned around, and then a crowd of people ran alongside him, hooting and hollering as he tried to pick up the pace. Whenever he started to slow or tried to leave what he found out was a road made into a circle, they would beg and convince him to stay and keep going. It was only when he was foaming at the mouth and the sun was getting low in the sky, that his ‘pacers’ let him go; even though they went back onto the track and kept going.

“I… need… food.” Grant slumped onto a bench and took out his money pouch. “Five Days and three Hours… must find steak and water. So much water…”

Taking a moment, he tried to plan out his financial situation. A loaf of bread back in New Dawn was supposed to be five Minutes, assuming he wasn’t scammed by a shopkeeper. Here, in the town apparently named ‘Hajimeni’, he couldn’t imagine it would be different. At least here, people seemed overly friendly, so he shouldn’t be scammed or forced to buy snot-coated bread!

With a sigh, he got up and headed back towards the center of the village in search of a shop or tavern. The thought of a bacon-wrapped steak and cold milk kept him placing one foot in front of the other. He felt like he’d never start moving again if he stopped, so he continued to press himself onward. The stress, hunger, and tiredness of the past few days were catching up with him.

Finally, a tavern loomed ahead. He licked his lips as he approached; this was exactly what he was looking for. Grant could hear chatter coming from within, apparently this was a popular place, going by the sheer number of competitors that had entered. Some were sweaty, likely in search of a good meal or bath, others seemed fresh and in search of an energy boost before… night time training or some such nonsense? Ivy covered half the quaint building, only noticed because he had to push through it as he went through the entrance. His stomach was screaming at him. It would take every shred of willpower for him to keep from going overboard tonight.

Looking around the abundantly popular tavern, Grant was shocked beyond belief. There was no wild boar on a spit, with fat sizzling and dripping as the meat spun. In fact, the only scent in here was the light scent of sweat that came off people that exercised regularly. Where was the wheaty smell of ale? Fresh-baked bread? …the vinegar of pickles? His brain struggled to comprehend what he was seeing instead.

People were drinking from glasses filled with a thick green substance. A server came around, stared at him for a moment, then ran back and brought him a large mug filled with the ‘drink’. “By order of Lady February, any person such as… yourself… that is clearly working to better themselves is to be given physical cultivation resources for free at least twice per day. Here you are, on the house!”

Grant was in a state of numb shock, completely out of his element in this culture of strange people. He thanked her and took the mug, sniffing at it tentatively. It smelled just like it looked: a glass full of freshly cut grass. Grant wrinkled his nose in disgust and went to put the un-sipped glass down on the table. He looked over at the bar, and gasped as he saw this drink advertised, with the price clearly displayed.

“Sword Saints! One Hour for a drink of grass?” He snatched up the glass and lumbered over to the server that had given him the noxious substance. “What in Lord January’s name do you call this?”

“Lord January?” The server smiled uncomfortably as Grant waved the precious liquid around. “That, sir, is our most popular recovery drink. The special blend of plant matter and powdered monster proteins aids recovery and increases muscular endurance over time. It’s called ‘Beastly energy drink’, or ‘Bed’ for short, since it is most effective if you do physical cultivation all day and drink it right before sleeping. It was designed by Lady February herself.”

“I don’t want to ‘Bed’ myself, I want to treat myself after a really difficult month!” This statement received more than a few laughs from the tittering bunch of competitors, who were downing the pungent drinks as if they were shots of whipped cream and this was a Noble feast. “Where is the food? Something solid that I can bite into?”

“On the other side of the bar you will find pre-packaged ready meals.” The server pointed, but her expression seemed to suggest that he would be less than satisfied with what he found.

“Okay… that’s… thank you.” Grant hurried over, hopeful that he could find something to enjoy. He had defeated Lord January and taken his position less than a day ago, he needed to celebrate! As it turned out, the small boxes on display were only a little more appetizing than the grass drinks. He picked one up and examined it warily, struggling to make out the words. Growing up as an abandoned orphan on the farm, he hadn’t exactly had a chance to develop strong reading skills, though words and language intrigued him. “Sarge, that is… Master Sergeant, I could use a hand here?”

<Heh.> Grant scowled as soon as he heard the first inkling of Sarge’s laughter <I would like you to know that I'm absolutely delighted with the selection of food here. Imagine how fast you’ll be able to swing me through the air when there’s less wind resistance from your arms!>

“Are you kidding me? How can this be safe to eat, listen to this!” Grant picked up the box once more and tried to sound out the words, “Queen-noa, chia seeds, goji berries? I feel like I’m reading a poison recipe. Maybe a assassination plot, some kind of Regicide?”

<Those are more than safe, they’re good. These foods are considered superfoods. Exceptionally nutrient-dense foods, filled with vitamins, minerals, and other health-enhancing benefits.> Sarge’s voice darkened and Grant felt chills run down his spine; something fundamental had changed in Sarge when he got upgraded with Sword Grandmastery. When he spoke, power rolled along with his thoughts. <This is good, because you don’t have time to be weak, Grant. Don’t forget your mission, or what happens if you fail. Today is February first, and that means a full one-twelfth of your time to live has expired. I think following along in this District might just save your life.>

“I… I just wanted to eat an actual meal.” Grant lowered his head as the stress of the last few days settled in on him. “Is that so much to ask?”

<Around these parts, apparently so.> Sarge outright laughed at Grant’s kicked-puppy expression. <You’re outta luck, big boy. Go drink your wheatgrass shot and figure out how to survive off it for the remainder of the month!>

“No, I’m gonna at least have something to chew on…” Grant looked at the sign and almost choked when he saw the price: two Hours! His only choices were the ‘free’ one Hour grass drinks, or the wildly expensive box of nuts and berries. He could afford it, for now, but couldn’t bring himself to hand over such a vast quantity of time for such a… “Wait! There’s chicken on the menu! It’s… five Hours for a boiled chicken breast? Why?”

“Sir, just so that you don’t get yourself into trouble, please allow me to explain.” There was a man behind the counter that looked like he could lift Grant into the air and tear him in half like a sheet of paper. Grant had no idea how he hadn’t seen this person until now. “Lady February has decreed that all protein sources for the population be lean meats, and all food has to be approved by food scholars known as ‘Royal Nutritionists’. That means all food sources are controlled by Lady February and her Vassals directly, and are guaranteed to help you remain healthy. Decrying this order is a finable offence.”

Grant stared at the man and tried to think of anything to say. Eventually he simply nodded and walked back over to the glass of grass and monster parts that he had originally abandoned. “If I can’t eat what I want, might as well eat for free..”

The server smiled at him, and gently gripped his sweaty shoulder. “I’m glad you decided to get on board. Would you like to enhance your drink for only thirty Minutes?”

“What would an additional thirty Minutes get me?” Grant stared at her hopefully, surprised that she didn’t seem to mind his body’s stench or moist clothing.

“A long-life herbal energy drink. All proceeds from enhanced meals will go towards the charity, Pacers for Trainers. They’re a group of roving Vassals that find people that are struggling in their health journey and encourage and help motivate them.”

His mind flashed to the strange people that had bothered him all day. “Those were all Vassals? They looked like they were going to beat me up if I stopped, so I guess it makes sense that they…”

He didn’t finish the sentence; the server’s eyes were already the size of dinner plates and looked ready to pop out at any moment. Her hands clutched her tray, and she seemed ready to punch him in the face. Gulping nervously, he pulled out the Time and handed it over with a quiet, “I met them today, and they helped me a lot. I don’t mean to be so ungrateful, I’m just not used to all this…”

He waved around the room, and the server huffed and snatched the Time, leaving and returning with a purple and fizzy cup of tea. She slammed it onto the counter for him, leaving right away afterward. It was only at that moment that Grant realized there were no chairs in this place. Everyone was standing as they ate or drank, clearly doing what they could to continue their training in their down time. Even the people that he had originally thought were sitting were actually in a chair pose, braced against the wall.

*Grumble.*

His ravenous body demanded meat, in any form. Grant unhappily and stared at his green ‘Bed’ and purple tea. He held his nose and downed them both as rapidly as he possibly could, noticing right away that the glasses were designed to look large, but held only half of the actual content he had been expecting.

Nutritional needs met. Do not ingest any other foods for at least three hours, unless heavy exercise has been undertaken.

Grant stared at the message, startled that the shot of grass and… monster powder… was enough to set off the intake warning. His stomach wasn’t satisfied, even if Sword Grandmastery seemed to be. He needed to get out of this place and find a spot to sleep on all the changes that he was running into. Was every District going to be so wildly varied? It made sense, a thousand years of nearly zero contact was certain to make people different culturally, but this much from just January to February?

<Listen.> Sarge seemed almost… embarrassed? <I was integrating the new training information and creating plans, and assessing how your training progressed under my previous ability. It was determined as: not very well. With that said, now that I’m fully up to date… there will be significant changes coming to the way we do things.>

“All of it is to become better and survive, right? Then… as much as I may complain, bring it on, Sarge. Glad to have you back to normal, underwater pushups seemed a little bonkers.” After trudging back outside, he found that the sun had officially set on his first day in District February. Grant walked along the cobbled streets, his stomach still rumbling. “Since I’m here… should I try and qualify for the tournament? It looks like so long as I ‘place’, I should be able to meet and fight against Lady February. I can use the entire month to train, then participate in the tournament, and try to win legitimately.”

*Bang!*

Grant flinched as some kind of powdered monster horn was tossed into a fire and made a small explosion. He looked over at the track, where people were still training, and shook his head. “Do they ever stop?”

Feet thundered on the road, and Grant sucked his stomach in as the tightly bunched group passed. He didn’t need to worry too much, the runners were only focused on winning the race, but some clearly treated him like a new and interesting way to train agility as they dodged around him in ever-more-acrobatic maneuvers. Once they were out of sight, he continued on in search of somewhere to sleep for the night.

The glowing candlelights of the Hajimeni Hotel welcomed him in the distance, the only place he could see in the entire town that was well-lit besides the training grounds. He picked up his step and hurried towards the hotel excitedly, until he got to the entrance and was greeted by a ‘No Vacancies’ sign. “Aww, come on… wait… maybe they have a restaurant in there?”

“Please stop right there.” A burly man blocked his path as he moved to enter, “Do you have a room?”

“Um, no. I just want to eat in the hotel’s restaurant. I assume it has a restaurant?”

The man crossed his arms, showing off bulging muscles with his formal shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and making Grant wonder what the dress code was at this place. “It does, for guests only.”

“Can you… make an exception?” Grant rummaged around in his money pouch, taking out a shiny one Hour coin.

The man didn’t say a word, only shaking his head and shooing Grant away. With a long-suffering sigh, he walked away from the welcoming lights that were now practically mocking him. The issue was repeated throughout the village, it turned out that the rooms here had been booked out months in advance. How could he expect to find a place at such short notice?

A jogger was stretching against a wall, her foot propped on top as she cooled down. Grant took the opportunity to approach, hoping that maybe she could direct him to somewhere he had missed. He decided to shout out, not wanting to be mistaken for an attacker.

“Hello. I was wondering if you could help?” The woman glanced over at him, and went to stretch her other leg. “I need to find a place to sleep, and maybe somewhere to eat? Do you know any open bakeries?”

“Oh, it’s you again.” The woman was the same one he came across earlier, though now she looked decidedly more tired. “There are no free rooms at this time of year, and certainly not when a tourney is on. What’s a bakery?”

“Are you serious?” Now it was Grant’s turn to laugh. “A place that makes bread? Cakes? Pastries?”

“Oh, that would do it then.” She nodded as if he had just explained a great mystery. “There is no bread in February. Pasta either, not for years. Empty carbs like that are a big no-go.”

“You’re… you’re messing with me, right? Everyone eats bread. It’s the main source of calories for the people of January.”

She kept working her legs, though now he had more of her attention. “They're… more your-sized, I assume?”

“Well… no, not really. I’m actually so thin that I’ve been driven away for looking sickly, or like a beggar before.” Grant hadn’t wanted to admit that, but he was glad it was out in the open, so he could find out if these people were just playing mind games with him. “Look, I just want to eat something tasty to celebrate… um… coming to District February.”

“Listen, if you’ve already been to a store or restaurant, and you don’t like what you found there, I really can’t help you. I think wheatgrass shots are the most tasty cultivation booster, so… can’t help you.  Also, you never compensated me earlier! After you made me slow down and chat earlier, I took two minutes longer than my predicted time to complete the circuit!”

“That’s… my fault?”

“It’s against the law to inhibit someone’s training if they are working to better themselves. If I’m slow, I’ll never win my race and progress to the main tournament! You can’t just make people lose the chance to be their best self, and not pay for their services.”

“Oh, come on. I just got here and needed help. You can’t blame me for that.” Seeing her hard look, Grant started to get angry. “If a one-minute talk is enough to make you lose out on your chance, that’s not on me. Maybe you just need to train harder.”

She gave him a sarcastic once-over, “What do you know about training?”

“What do I know about…? I’ll have you know, I’ve spent hours training with the sword!” Grant unsheathed February Twenty Nine, and the blade rang; its song echoing off the walls of the cobbled streets. He swished the blade in artistic patterns in an attempt to impress the fatigued jogger. He walked closer to give her a better view, the light of a torch reflecting menacingly off his eyes and sword.

She screamed and backpedaled, “Stay away! Help! Someone!”

“W-what?” Grant looked at his sword, his balanced position, and realized that they were having a misunderstanding. “No! Oh, I’m not attacking you, I was only showing you-”

“Help! Help! I’m being attacked.” The lady darted off down the cobbled street at breakneck speed. Doors to hotels and shops slammed open, and various people streamed out, their eyes searching for the source of the commotion.

“Regent’s frozen-” Grant bit off his curse as he hurried to hide his sword and self.

<You do have a way with the ladies, don’t you?> Sarge’s voice was a welcome and familiar presence, but even so, now was not the time.

“Sarge. Please.”

<So touchy. I was going to let you know that I was going to give you special dispensation for not training today, considering that you went to the effort of eating such a healthy meal and doing some serious physical cultivation. Maybe I should change my mind? We haven’t run through a Sword Grandmastery program yet, after all?>

“S-sarge! You know I didn’t mean it. I’m just starving and tired is all.” Grant chuckled nervously as he hurried along the road perpendicular to where the screaming jogger had ran. Far better than directly away, in his mind.

<Actually…> Sarge let the words hang in the air for a beat too long for comfort. <You’re a Lord of the Month now, Grant. It’s about time you started acting like one.>

Grant bolted away, not wanting the attention of the guard on him, especially if he wanted to participate in one of the events. He darted down the first side street he came across and resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t find a room for the night, or another meal. He heard the sound of horses nickering, and reluctantly climbed a nearby wall. At the top, he came face to face with a chestnut bay that  snorted and sniffed at the hand he presented. Grant smiled, having always been more at home amongst the animals than with people.

After stroking the horse’s mane and having its head nuzzle against his hand, he crept inside the stables. It stank of dirty hay and unwashed beasts. In the darkness, he tripped over a couple of buckets, making a racket as they tipped their murky contents over the stone flagstones. Off-balance, he narrowly avoided landing in the spreading slick. The stable wasn’t well kept, but at least it was somewhere he could hide out for the night.

In the other half of the stable, he could make out the outline of carriages. Earlier that day they had taken competitors to Hajimeni, and tomorrow would probably leave, taking the runners with them. He considered forcing his way into one and sleeping there… but he had no idea what would happen if he was caught; so he unrolled his bedroll and settled down on a layer of fresh hay for the night.

As he lay on the bedroll, hands propped behind his head, he reflected on the events that had led him here, the most important of which was saving the Leaps. Yes, the quest ‘Heal the World’ was more important to him on a personal level because if he didn’t, he’d die at the end of the year, but even so, it filled him with a great sense of pride knowing that he’d brought change to January. Maybe there was hope for the people of January, and it would all stem from him making the hard choice to push forward through the pain. He really wanted to see the changes since he killed Randall and defeated Lord January.

Name: Grant Monday

Rank: Lord of The Month (January)

Class: Foundation Cultivator

Cultivation Achievement Level: 11

Cultivation Stage: Late Spring

Inherent Abilities: Swirling Seasons Cultivation

Health: 184/184

Mana: 9/9

Characteristics

Physical: 89

Mental: 34

Armor Proficiency: 44

Weapon Proficiency: 66

Cultivation resources detected: purified monster meats. Physical and Armor cultivation is increased by 10% for 2 hours.

Wielded Weapon: "February 29"

Weapon Inherent abilities:

1) Weapon Absorption: This sword has the ability to absorb another Wielded Weapon’s power, taking its ability into itself. Restriction: Only one weapon per Monthly series.

2) Weapon/Armor Synergy: When the Wielder is equipped with armor, this sword increases in potency and gains power. Increase is capped at the Weilder’s cultivation stage, or average armor stage, whichever is lower. February 29 is now considered an ‘Early Spring Medium’ sword. Current maximum damage is: 8 (5.5 from weapon cultivation, 2 from weapon stage, rounded up.) Damage type is ‘piercing’, or ‘slashing’ depending on how February 29 is used.

3) Time is Space: you now have access to any of the powers of February Twenty Nine, no matter where the Weapon is. You may also call your Weapon to you so long as you touch upon a place in the world where it once was while in your possession. Cost: 25% of mana pool.

4) Locked

He wondered how Duke Friday was getting on after he’d told Grant to flee. He hoped the man had taken over and instilled some order, but who knew for sure? Grant knew that it would likely be a long time before he returned to January, if ever, so he may never learn the answer to that question. There was one more thought in his mind that was tearing him apart, after a day of being around people that were stronger, faster, healthier, and far more intense than he was.

How would he, only one month into his journey, compete against people who had spent their entire lives training and preparing for specific events?