February ~ 1!

CHAPTER 1

The air sizzled with pent up energy as Grant shot out of the barrier, landing with a splash in February. He pushed himself up with a groan, “I hated that so much.”

<Better than staying in January and getting assassinated for your position.> Sarge chuckled away to himself. <By the time you see anyone from that District again, they’ll quiver in terror from your blood-soaked aura. Killers and Kings alike will tremble before your fury!>

“Sarge! You’re alive!” Grant stared down at his feet, which were currently ankle-deep in silty water. Exhausted, muddy, and on the run, it was hard to imagine crowds of people fleeing before him. Looking around, he could see that he was at the bottom of a hillside covered with water-filled terraces, and a raincloud had chosen that moment to welcome him by dumping its contents across the terrain. “What am I standing in?”

<Of course, I’m alive! I’m the best sword trainer in existence! Bwahaha!> The explosive reply startled Grant, <Have you never seen a paddy field, farm boy?>

“Can’t say that I have. Back in January, the crops were corn and wheat if you remember correctly. Basically anything that could be ground up and turned into bread or cake. Are you feeling okay?” Grant ran his hand along the carpet of green shoots in wonder. “What are paddies, and why do they grow in water?”

<Your ignorance precedes you! I see your limited logic hard at work. They grow rice here, on the slopes there is ample rainfall to fill the terraces.> Sarge stopped speaking and showed no signs of continuing, so Grant simply nodded and gazed around. He still struggled to believe that he was free from January. Since the barrier was erected a millennium ago, no one got the chance to travel, apart from the Lord of the Month and a select few merchants of House Thursday.

While he was standing there and taking in nature, the rain shower slowed and petered off. The water-filled terraces glistened in the midday light, sheets of glass reflecting the azure blue sky of a glorious February. Only his feet slowly sinking into the soft silt of the drowned fields brought his mind back to his current situation.

Grant’s knuckles were white as he realized that he still held February Twenty Nine outstretched, ready for battle. He hadn't been sure what to expect when he stepped through the Barrier in a random location, but now the tension in his arms and shoulders was fading. The trip through the barrier had only lasted an instant, but his mind was filled with confusing images that swiftly faded away.

He was just starting to sheathe his sword when he heard distant shouting carrying over the breeze. Squinting down the hill and past the paddy fields, was a smattering of buildings and specks of people nestled amongst the trees. He couldn’t make out any details from here, but the specks appeared to be running from something. “Are those people in trouble? I need to help! Who knows what ravenous monsters or terrible Wielders inhabit February?”

<Recruit, get down there on the double!> Apparently, Master Sergeant was satisfied with the attempt. <What are you lazing around for? Those people might need your help! Let’s get over there and show them what we can do!>

“I’m on it!” Grant paused and squinted at his sword. “Hold on, this was my idea from the start.”

<Move it, recruit!>

“I’m going!” He waded through the paddy field as fast as possible, but made better progress upon reaching the edge of the waterlogged area and getting onto dry land. There was even a path that wound lazily through the fields towards the hamlet below, and he started running as quickly as possible along it.  Soon he could make out details of the figures escaping from the town. They wore tight clothes; pants with the bottom half of the legs missing, along with short-sleeved tops. What really bothered him was the numbers plastered across their tops. Had they been branded like cattle? Were these people only known by their numbers? The Nobility here must be terrorizing the population!

He picked up his pace, muscles protesting at the rough treatment, but he had to help them! Grant, drenched in sweat from his exertion, stumbled towards the first of the figures. “Are you - *hurk* - in need of… do you need help?”

“Move!” The slim person running along the path darted to the side and dodged past the bulk of Grant. “What are you even doing? You’re going the wrong way on the track!”

Grant watched the stick-like villagers running past with great pity in his eyes. “Those poor people… they’re starving! Maybe their food stores were destroyed by monsters?”

The running people streamed past Grant. They all had firm and resolved expressions, but none of them seemed sad or afraid. Had they simply given up and decided to be treated like this? The poor people! He considered trying to match their pace and ask questions, but he doubted he’d be able to run as well as keep a conversation going for any length of time.

Shouting and puffs of smoke came amongst the trees and buildings, and Grant started toward it right away. “That must be where the troublemaker is.”

The crowd of escaping villagers thinned as he climbed a path and passed a waterwheel. His breathing was labored, and he struggled to take ragged breaths. The Early Spring Medium  armor constrained his movement. “Is the air thicker here? It’s… so hot!”

Around the corner, villagers bearing identification numbers were corralled behind a rope. There was a huge *bang*, and a puff of smoke drifted into the air as the villages stormed out of the enclosure towards him. Rather than risk getting trampled, he dodged to the side and watched the group speed past.

The faces were a blur as they moved, but he thought he could see… smiling? The runners were having fun? This didn’t make any sense. Why would fleeing people be having fun, and where were the attackers? He needed answers. Grant stepped into one of the side streets and off the main path and simply watched the people moving and going about their days. He couldn’t find anyone who wasn’t running slowly and bouncing along well-maintained paths. The strangest thing was that every one of them was smiling. These strange people were enjoying themselves!

Grant’s breath was taken away as he gazed past the runners. The paddy field terraces, buildings, and forested regions were replaced by an expansive vista. At the bottom of the slope, grasslands stretched as far as the eye could see; it reminded him of home, and that terrified him. He approached one of the nearest runners, a woman in short trousers and tight top bounced along a path, one of the few people not wearing a number.

“This one begs your pardon, Lady. Are you in distress?” Grant ran alongside the woman, whose ponytail was flicking to the side as she bobbed up and down in perfect running form. “I heard a bang and saw smoke… then these runners bearing numbers across their-”

“Speed Saints, where did you crawl out of?.” She wrinkled her nose as she examined Grant’s body that was showing through his armor. “We’re training for the end-of-February tourney, and you’re distracting me from my Physical cultivation. Are you going to compensate me for the lost time, or leave me alone?”

Grant had no idea what she was talking about. She wasn’t eating anything? He needed answers. “What about the numbers?”

“They're competing for a place in the main tournament. Each runner is given a number for easy verification and only the top runners will get through to the next round.”

“Just to be sure… you aren’t under attack? No one is forcing you to run?” Grant tried one last time.

“No? What gave you that idea?” She stifled a laugh and took a deep breath to get her breathing pattern back in sync. “I’m a jogger.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize. I thought you were a human.” Grant looked for any of the tell-tale signs a monster should have, but she seemed normal… just tiny.

The woman stopped and bounced on the spot, kicking up her heels while giving him a strange look. “Where are you from? How can you not know what’s going on… and pardon the rudeness, why are you so large? I’ve never come across an individual that was so… grand.”

“Grand?”

<She’s trying to see if you’re sick or just lazy, Grant.> Sarge’s caustic voice crashed into Grant's head, making him wince at the sudden mental shout.

“Well, you’re a smidge more horizontal than the average Februarian.” She smiled brightly, a strange look in her eyes. “I meant no offense.”

Feeling a strange need to impress her, Grant shook his head and smiled. “I’m not from February. I’ve just arrived from District January.”

“Oh? Did you come via Hajimeni? Why didn’t you take the merchant road, the one the caravans take?” Her footfalls hadn’t slowed at all, and she was clearly becoming agitated that she was still here. “Listen, I need to keep going now, I’m not going to toss away my chance to join the Nobility!”

“So that you can finally get access to food…?”

“Food? What does the Nobility have to do with food?!” She looked at him as if he were crazy. “Becoming a Noble is the highest achievement anyone can ever aspire to in this life. Being the shield that protects the people? Who wouldn’t want to have that sort of power? Everyone is doing anything they can to place in the tournament.”

Her description of a Noble almost made him laugh aloud, then he realized the final part was even more stunning. “Everyone? Wait, so anyone that joins this tournament has a chance at becoming a Noble?”

“You really are new here. Everything has come to an absolute halt. Every single business and individual in the District has stopped functioning, and become focused on gaining a Wielded Weapon to change their fates...”

“Do you think you can win it?” Grant really wanted her to do well, she seemed really nice.

“No one wants to win. They want to place.” At Grant’s question, she shook her head and looked around cautiously, and her smile dropped away. “The winner will become Lady February’s sparring partner.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad? A really good training partner sounds kinda nice?”

Perhaps he shouldn’t have opened his mouth. As soon as he said those words, she rapidly backed away and started running, calling over her shoulder, “I… I have to go. I can’t let my heart rate drop too much, and have another fifteen miles to do before my aerobics class. Don’t… don’t ever tell anyone that you want to be her sparring partner.”

“Wait!” But the jogger was already gone, bounce-fleeing along the road. Grant looked at the ground and growled out a sigh. “I don’t understand this place at all.”