YoTS: Lord January ~ 24!

CHAPTER 24

<Cultivation achievement level has multiple factors, and each level gained will give you bonus points in each characteristic. Before you ask, I’ll tell you that the amount earned varies. We’ll talk about the specifics later, but just assume it is based on cultivation stage.> Sarge launched into his explanation in spite of Grant’s sigh, <For a regular cultivator, they can only achieve higher levels by directly cultivating.>

<Every forty hours spent cultivating a single aspect - whether it is weapon, armor, physical, or mental cultivation - will give them a single characteristic points in that category. If you ever look at your status and see a number with a little plus next to it, it is because you gained a point there directly from cultivating, not increasing your total cultivation achievement level. Now, a thousand hours of total cultivating, even if spread between all four of the different aspects, increases their cultivation achievement level by one.>

“Well then this just doesn’t make sense.” Grant complained as he hustled around the empty streets looking for Derek's house. “I already reached cultivation achievement level five, and I’m nowhere near having a thousand hours of-”

<Listen when I talk! I said that was for a regular cultivator. You are a Wielder of a Weapon of Power.> Sarge knew that Grant had no idea what the difference would be, so he decided not to keep him waiting. <A Wielder has eight total ways that they can increase in cultivation achievement level. Standard cultivation is one of them, but the easiest ways are killing or - as a separate option - defeating other Wielders. Most of the time, Wielders or Vassals cannot take advantage of this option. You cannot go into a playacting fight and ‘defeat’ someone, you have to earn the win. For most people, it is also illegal to kill other Wielders, as they tend to be members of the Nobility.>

“But I've defeated a bunch of Vassals, and I haven't gained any levels recently. Abyss, I just beat four of them and took their weapons, and I still didn’t level up!” Grant found the street that he was supposed to be on, and with great relief started looking for the correct house.

<The first time you kill either a Lord or Lady of the Month, Wielder, Vassal, or Monster, you will gain a level. You have done all of those except a Lord or Lady. The first time you defeat one of those same options, whether they surrender or you simply completely overpower them and render them helpless, you gain a level. You have done this as well. Good work on that.> The sudden compliment from Sarge made Grant pause, blink owlishly, and refocus on the conversation. <I told you that your easy levels were already achieved. Killing or defeating a Lord or Lady cannot be considered easy.>

<Luckily, you have a few more options. Here is how the numbers work.> Sarge let a hint of bloodlust into his voice as he recounted, <After killing four total Wielders, you will gain a level the next time you kill one. You can do that over and over again. However, if you defeat just two Wielders, the third one will give you a level.>

“But... by your logic, I've not yet defeated a Wielder.” Grant chimed in, excited to make that connection. “So if I defeat just one, will I gain a level?”

<I…> Sarge paused and Grant felt a strange energy enter him. <Yes. Here. You cannot access this without me, but I can show you the ‘gain sheet’ that you have achieved currently. I don't want to show this to you very often, I want you to focus on perfecting yourself; not filling the sheet just to gain levels for the sake of leveling.>

Lords/Ladies Killed: 0

Lords/Ladies Defeated: 0

Wielders Killed: 1

Wielders defeated: 0

Vassals Killed: 1

Vassals defeated: 5

Monsters Killed: 1

Cultivation: 1

“Hey! I killed way more than one monstrous rat!” Grant argued instantly.

<No, the poison and explosion did. You, personally, only killed two monster rats. Regular rats, even if large, might not count as a monster. Just so you know, traps and such do not count toward your gains.> Sarge considered the kill sheet contentedly. <You are correct, you have not yet defeated a Wielder. Also, if you defeat just two more Vassals, you will reach another cultivation achievement level.>

“So… every six Vassals defeated counts for one level, how many do I need to kill for a level?” The excitement in Grant’s voice was something that Sarge had been hoping to hear.

<Let me give it to you in a direct break down. Every two Lords or Ladies killed will give you one level. You gain one level for each of those that you defeat, though. Every two Wielders that you defeat, or every four that you kill, will give you a level.> Sarge highlighted each area as he was speaking so that Grant could see what he was talking about as he said it. <Every six Vassals defeated, or every twelve killed. Finally, every fifty monsters killed will bump you up, too. Of course, you can always increase your cultivation level by actually cultivating, which is what most people need to do, but it does take quite a long time.>

“It seems that…” Grants applied every mathematical trick he knew to work out his next words, “defeating them is the fastest path towards a high-level? I would only have to defeat half as many as I needed to kill, to reach the same level?”

Sarge’s response was slightly mystifying, <What is a Calendar King without subjects to rule? Oh, last note. Killing cultivators does nothing for your personal level. Might help with skills?>

“Look who it is!” Fergus’s drunken shout caught Grant off guard, making him flinch away from the large man. “I've been out looking for you, lad! Come on, this is the right house!”

Grant was dragged into Derek's home, and Red looked him over with a frown. “You said you wouldn’t be long. What happened?”

“I fell asleep in the dining hall, then took a wrong turn trying to get here.” Grant’s answer was plausible, and would have been accepted… there was one tiny detail he had forgotten.

“That doesn’t explain your leg!” Skinny pointed at the blood on Grant as he dug into a late night snack; dipping a hotdog into a jar of mayonnaise, followed by ketchup and mustard. He ate the ‘snack’ in two bites, then reached for another.

“Well…” Though he hadn't wanted to get into it, Grant reluctantly told them what actually happened, “After the wrong turn, I ran into a Calendar, a group of Vassals serving Sir Friday Twenty-ninth.”

“You ran away and only got that little cut?” Red leaned forward in his chair to get a better look. “Remarkable.”

“I was nicked by a… I think it is called a truncheon? A club with a blade on it. It hardly touched me, but I still can’t feel my thigh. My right leg is pins and needles, but I’m at least starting to get feeling back in that. Now, as you can see, Sir Friday Twenty Nine will be after me since I've a couple of his toys.” Grant pulled out the small wooden truncheons and dropped them on the table. They continued to glow with a faint inner light.

“Grant…” Fergus pointed at the glowing truncheons with wide eyes and a shaking finger. “That’s Wielder magic. Do you not understand? Vassals are people that have been granted a weaker version of the power of their Lord's Wielded Weapon. I think… I’m pretty sure they can track those down.”

“You need to get rid of these. You should get over to see Bob Sunrise, he can probably even tell you how to fix your leg if it isn’t better by then.” Derek looked pleased to add something to the conversation that he’d been left out until this point. “Across the river where the upper classes hobnob. He’ll be able to help you out. You’ll see a sign at the corner of the plaza that says ‘Bob’s Armor Emporium’.”

Grant looked around for confirmation, but everyone else just shrugged. Since this was the only lead he had toward figuring out what he was up against, Grant nodded at Derek. “Many thanks. I’ll head there first thing in the morning.”

Exhausted from his training and the fight, the night passed in a blur for Grant. Getting up before dawn, he slipped out of the house. With a bounce in his step, he left the Crafting District behind. The mega bakeries were already churning out bread and pastries for the nobility across the river; making the air smell glorious. “I can't imagine what would have happened if I hadn't been able to fix the mill. Actually, I can… there would probably have been riots in the streets.”

Thinking of the mill brought back sour memories, but he tried to ignore the fury and just do his best to enjoy his morning. As he walked along the path sandwiched between the river, known as ‘The Trickle’, and a towering bakery wall, he was careful not to breathe too deeply. The bread smell was just too tempting… and the river smell was disgusting. Such a dichotomy made his empty stomach churn.

As pretty as the river appeared in the morning light, on closer inspection Grant could see discharge pumping into it from the south, and raw sewage from the wealthy townhouses to the north. He picked up his step and held his nose tightly against the miasmic stench. Hurrying along, he almost missed the city change dramatically as he got across one of the many bridges. The view was suddenly akin to a many levelled wedding cake, but here each layer contained a myriad of fine buildings.

Grant passed the Imperial School of Cookery. An obese guard yawned by a filigreed gate, paying Grant no attention; his focus on a box of donuts while trying to figure out which one to nibble on next. The other thing Grant noticed as he walked up steps towards the next layer of the Noble quarter was how quiet it was. Back in the south of the city, there was always the sound of industry, with workers hard at work at meeting the multitude of needs of the Nobility and the large city at large. Here in the north, there was silence. “People are hungover from their night of feasting and partying? That has to be it.”

A central plaza opened up in front of him. He walked past an oversized statue of an absolute ball of a man. The plaque at its base read ‘Lord January provides for all’. The statue’s huge arms were spread wide, and around the base were the figures of peasants and Nobles with their faces turned up to admire their ruler’s benevolence; eating the feast supplied by Lord January.

From the corner of his eye, Grant noticed the freshly painted sign of ‘Bob’s Armor Emporium’. His destination in sight, Grant picked up his pace; but his heart sank as he reached the door and noticed a closed sign hung behind the glass. “Maybe I’m just too early?”

The streets were still deserted, and it was starting to become creepy instead of normal. The sun was just starting to come up when he crossed the river, but a shop should be open that didn’t stop him from looking through the window. His face pressed against the shop window, Grant attempted to peer into the darkness within. He could see the outline of breastplates, gauntlets, and sturdy leather boots. In the depths, there appeared to be full suits of armor, but squinting didn’t help.

“Get away from my window, peasant, or I’ll call for the Peacekeepers!”