YoTS: Lord January ~ 16!

CHAPTER 16

As he hurried after the slow-moving caravan, it dawned on Grant that he hadn’t checked his stats in days. Now was as good a time as any. “Status.”

Name: Grant Monday

Class: Wielder

Cultivation Achievement Level: 4

Cultivation Time: 47:00 Hours (Time to Next Level 953:00 Hours)

Cultivation Stage: Early Spring

Inherent Abilities: Swirling Seasons Cultivation

Health: 83/83

Mana: 2/2

Characteristics

Physical: 22 (+1)

Mental: 7

Armor Proficiency: 8

Weapon Proficiency: 15 (+1)

Time

14 Hours, 10 Minutes

“My characteristics have increased. I… I’m so happy.” Hours of training every day. With Sarge, running around the carriages and helping out with physical tasks other people were too lazy to do, all of this came together to let him progress. Despite Sarge’s consistent sarcasm, he felt amazing. He had even been paid, which let him see Time on his status page for more than a single day, which was exciting in its own right. “It’s finally recognizing my Time as my own, too. Another new feature!”

Ambling along, he paused beside an old oak tree. At its base, in the damp shadows, was a clump of mushrooms. He plucked one to have a closer look, twirling it in his fingers. It was a vibrant blue with white spots, a pretty-

Notification: You have plucked your first unique herbal ingredient, a blue cap mushroom. To learn more about herbalism and the wonderful world of plants, visit your nearest herbalism trainer.

Reward: Skill.

Skill gained: Plant Insight (1/5). Spot plants with effects within a ten-yard radius.

“Interesting… my first skill. It’s a shame Becky is already eight days away in New Dawn. I could have asked her more about herbalism.” He sauntered along, examining the mushroom as he walked and trying to figure out how to use the skill. It was his first-ever skill, and he wasn’t sure how to use it, or if it was a good one to have. By the time the caravan was in hearing range, he could almost forget the horrific experience against the Kraken.

“Why… hello, there.” An imposing woman stepped out from behind a tree. One hand was braced against her hip, the other was holding a wicker hamper. “I was wondering when you were going to turn up, Grant Monda~a~ay!”

“I… hello?” He stumbled to a halt and stuffed the mushroom in his pocket. The way she had drawn out his name to an uncomfortable degree reminded him of dragging a plow over rocks. “I don’t think we’ve met?”

“Don’t play coy, my little Granty!” She held out her hand, apparently waiting for something. “I am Lady Vivian Thursday, daughter of Joviality Thursday, but you can call me…  anytime!”

“It’s a… pleasure? Yes, I see the familial resemblance. I think I saw you on top of the carriage earlier, chatting with Red and Fergus?” He wiped his hand, awkwardly grasping the fingers presented, then shook her hand.

“Granty! So, you were watching me. I couldn’t help but notice you.” She gazed down at his bare chest. His sweaty shirt was slung over a shoulder, and February Twenty Nine in the scabbard at his hip. “The appropriate way to greet a lady, such as I, is to kiss my hand!”

“Oh! Of course.” Grant pecked her hand with a quick kiss, then looked for a way past Vivian… but there was no obvious means of escape. She towered over and to the sides of him, sharing the high-class build of her father.

“Come along now.” Her sharp tone demanded obedience, so rather than argue, Grant followed behind as she started walking. She handed over the hamper, a pleased smile on her face as if she had just confirmed something. “Take this.”

He followed her to a clearing in the trees. Light filtered through leaves that gently swayed in the breeze. The smell of grass and spring wildflowers lingered in the air. In the center of the clearing lay a colorful woolen blanket that could have been the double of Jo’s multicolored coat where he was directed to set the hamper down.

“Granty, sit here and pour me the lemonade.” He did as he was told, pouring with uncertain motions. Because of this, lemonade flowed over the rim of the glass and spilled on the blanket. He was in for it now, and winced as he waited for a rebuke. “Don’t worry about the spilt lemonade, little Granty.”

She wiggled herself onto the spread blanket, aware that he was staring at the basket. “Eat, enjoy all of the pleasures before you!”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Grant was famished from his grueling training session. Vivian giggled as his stomach grumbled, and watched as he devoured a tower of tiny sandwiches, dinky pork pies, and a thick wedge of cake; washing it all down with tangy, freshly squeezed lemonade. “That was delicious. Thank you, Lady-”

Meaty hands gripped his shoulders, kneading his taut muscles as he reflexively clenched up. While he had been devouring the plates of miniature food, he hadn’t noticed her getting up and scooting behind him.

“Relax,” she cooed into his ear. Heavy perfume filled his nostrils, and her fingers drove into his muscles far too hard to be comforting. Relaxing would be difficult, as her powerful grip appeared to be trying to tear his tired muscles from the bone. He tried to relax, since she might beat him to a pulp if he refused, and he certainly didn’t want to draw February Twenty Nine on his employer’s daughter to defend himself. After several agonizing minutes, his mangled body slumped to the blanket out of sheer exhaustion.

“My turn!” She declared excitedly. Vivian removed a knee-high boot and presented a swollen calf that neatly hid her ankle and almost half her pedicured foot. Painted toes wiggled excitedly as she thought about the incoming foot massage. Grant gulped, then tentatively reached out and prodded the prodigious foot.

“Ooh. That’s it, Granty, rub my poor sore feet!” Grant couldn’t take it anymore. Overwhelmed by the sun, quantity of rich food that he was unused to, the smelly oversized foot dangling nearby - or perhaps all of it - he turned his head and vomited onto the grass.

“I… I’m so sorry.” In a panic, he got up and grabbed his sword and shirt and bolted towards the caravan. “I've to go!”

“Granty, it’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed!” He made a beeline for the caravan, ignoring the confused voice calling out behind him. “Granty? Grant. Grant! I demand that you come back here this instant!”

His legs had a mind of their own, and luckily there was no way they would obey her wishes. “Better escaping now than enduring the foot rub and whatever else she comes up with. I've no idea why she was punishing me, but I’d almost rather face the Kraken again.”

<I’ll put it in my notes,> the previously silent Sarge chuckled.

***

“Come on, you lot. Get a move on!” Joviality motioned to the assembled guards. The caravan had rolled to a halt at the base of a windmill. Up on the hill, past endless fields of wheat, lay a colossal structure; its turbine blades still despite the stiff breeze from the north. Its shadow engulfed the entirety of the Grand January Caravan, where Jo shouted in a thunderous tone, “It’s time you earned your keep! Get in there and start loading the sacks of flour!”

“What is that?” Grant’s jaw was slack and his eyes were as wide as teacups. The structure, made of white limestone, was unlike any he had seen before. He’d seen windmills, yes. Small, normal-sized buildings that the village used to grind grain; but this was on another level.

“Boy. Close that mouth of yours or you’ll catch flies!” Jo snapped at him, aiming a boot at his rear for interrupting him. “The purpose of the Royal January Mill is to supply flour for the entire city of Mid January. This structure alone supplies over two-thirds of all the flour required by a thousand bakeries across the district.”

“Wow…” was all Grant could think of saying. As he looked at Jo, he couldn’t help but shiver as he recalled the… incident. Vivian shared a striking similarity with her father, which was probably why he had gone out of his way to avoid her since then. He risked a glance back at the caravan and met her penetrating gaze. It seemed that he could never look in her direction without seeing her furious face. How did she always know when he was going to look over? Or was it… was she always staring at him? “Yeesh.”

Now that everyone was moving the way that they were supposed to, Joviality started to relax, and turned to face Grant directly. “Stopping here is an important part of our trip, and a profitable one. Our job as the Grand Caravan is not just selling pots and pans to peasants! Our business license is approved by Lord January himself! While we’re here, we will earn another three months of operating expenses by picking up enough bags of flour to fill half of our wagons to the brim.”

The caravan contained dozens of gigantic carriages, each the size of a small house. Grant hadn’t even considered what was in them, or what they were carrying, apart from cookware and the carriages that carried passengers.

“You know what? You’re a Monday… there shouldn’t be an issue with letting you see what goes on behind the scenes. Come with me, and I’ll introduce you to Head Grinder Godfrey.” Jo’s cloak billowed in the powerful wind as he strode forward. If it wasn’t for his bulk, he’d likely sail away over the horizon. Grant could see why this windmill was in this particular location.

As they walked in shade towards towering oak doors, the other guards filtered off towards the warehouses. They had apparently carried out this task many times before, but if the glares were anything to go by, it appeared none of them had accompanied Jo where they were going now.

They passed through the doors, and Grant felt somewhat let down. He had been expecting some kind of grand secret, but it was just a normal mill; if larger than usual. Inside, workers moved frantically around the center of the edifice, where a towering tree trunk encased in bands of steel soared up, and up, seemingly forever. The top of the tree faded into the darkness, and the bottom appeared to sink into the floor, where machinery was hidden in a basement or cellar.

A lone figure sat heavily in a chair, his head buried in his hands. As the two newcomers walked up, he didn’t stir; apparently tormented by something.

“Hey, Godfrey. How are you, fella?” Jo boomed, clapping a porterhouse-sized hand to the man’s hunched back.

“Oh, Jo… it’s you.” Godfrey didn’t even flinch at the surprise slap. “I’ve had better days, I can tell you that.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Joviality looked toward the center of the mill, “Hmm. I see the shaft isn’t spinning. You know, I thought it never stopped? What-”

“It’s not meant to stop, is it!” Godfrey snapped out the words, then let his head fall down contritely. “Sorry, my friend. It looks like we’ll be short a few… thousand sacks this time around.”

“What!” Jo roared loud enough to cause almost the entire mill to come to a standstill. “Lord January will have my hide for this! Not yours, far away and protected in your windmill! Get it working, get it working right now!”

Godfrey stood upright in a fury, causing his oversized chair to fall to the ground with a thunderous boom. “What do you want me to do, huh? We have an infestation.”

“That doesn’t explain why the shaft isn’t spinning!”

“We think something got stuck in the… mechanism. We’re trying to fix it right now. A load of poison was left in the cellar specifically to deal with the rodent population. A new recipe, and guaranteed to work… eventually. It’s at least ten times more potent than the regular-”

“You believe this was caused by rats? Just go down and unblock the mechanism!”

Godfrey slowly shook his head, bending slightly to grab the long arm of his chair and set it back up. He sank down into it with a sigh, then looked up sharply to meet Joviality’s eyes. “Two teams were already sent. We never heard from them again.”

“Come now, Godfrey. We can… let’s… look! We have a strapping lad here.” Jo swiped his arm across Grant’s back, then looked at Grant pleadingly as he almost face-planted from the force. “Random Guard Number Four here needs to break in his sword! He’s always complaining about the lack of adventure, and looking for a challenge. Training constantly, this one. He’ll take a look!”

Godfrey hadn’t missed the pleading interaction, and slowly shook his head. “I… I don’t think that’s wise, Jo.”

“Nonsense. You’ll do it, won’t you, boy?” Jo’s words were light, but his deadly stare made Grant’s skin crawl.

“I’m… I’m sure I could deal with a few rats. I’ve killed rats before?” Grant tried to keep his tone light, already being directed forward by Jo before the words were fully out of his mouth.

“That’s the spirit,” Jo loosened the death grip on the young man's shoulder.

Godfrey looked at Grant and shrugged, calling, “I’ll give you one Hour per giant rat tail, and five Days if you manage to free the mechanism.”

Quest gained: A Bouquet of Flours! (Rare)

Information: Kill the poisoned rats in the Royal January Mill and collect their tails. Optionally, free the grinding mechanism to restore the Royal January Mill to operation. The Lords and Ladies must have their wheat!

Reward: One Hour per giant rat tail collected. Five days for freeing the mechanism.

Accept / Decline.

“I accept!” Grant blurted the words out. How could he not accept the challenge and the potential reward? It would take months working on the caravan to earn such a sum. Plus, he might as well be paid for what he was about to be forced to do anyway.

Jo clapped him on the shoulder and shoved him roughly towards the cellar door. “Hurry lad, we’re already going to be so far behind…!”

Godfrey sighed, unable to look either of them in the eye. He motioned to a few workers and pointed at the cellar door. They grunted with effort as they rolled back the heavy grinding stone holding it closed. Grant gulped, suddenly unsure of his decision. Jo wouldn’t force him to go alone, right?

“I’ll prepare a feast for your return!” Jo motioned for a torch and practically tossed Grant into the unknown. “Ring the bell when you free the mechanism, and we’ll celebrate together while we let the other workers load the sacks!”

“Hold on, he can’t take a torch down-” Godfrey’s voice was cut off as the stone rolled back into position behind Grant, oppressive darkness swallowing him in an instant.