YoTS: Lord January ~ 14!

CHAPTER 14

Without a single Minute in his pocket, and a two week walk until the caravan reached the capital city of Mid January, Grant gazed out at the rolling fields with butterflies in his stomach.

<Quick!> The young man jumped at the words that sounded directly in his mind. <Someone call the circus, a clown has escaped!>

“That’s not funny.” Grant grumbled, careful not to wake Jo or the other caravan members, who were snoring loudly off to his left. As the newbie, he got the oddest clothing to mark him as a guard; the multicolored robe made him look ridiculous, but it served its purpose well. Everyone could see where the guards were with a single glance.

<It is funny, you just don’t understand humor, you uneducated peasant. Well, the adventure begins, huh? Where are we off to, my adipose adventurer?> Sarge’s caustic words were becoming commonplace to Grant, though he was confused by a few of the things the sword was implying as negatives.

“I‘m on my way to Mid January,” He ignored Sarge’s strange insult for the moment, unsure what ‘adipose’ actually meant; but it didn’t sound good, “where I intend to defeat Lord January in a duel.”

<How? What are you gonna do? Sit on him? Crush him to death? Asphyxiate him with your body odor?> Sarge paused for a moment as he thought about his last comment. <Didn’t I hear you mention that you have soap? Why not just… use it?>

Grant tried hard to ignore the assault on his hygiene, “I haven’t worked that part out yet. I won’t asphy… axe fix… I’m not gonna sit on anyone! The soap? Why would I use that already? I don’t smell and it isn’t bath week. Just… tell, me Sarge. Do you know what I should be doing?”

<Well, my near-illiterate pal. For starters, you have to train every day. Hard. Secondly, you need to stop shoveling food into that gob of yours! What’s that you’re eating now? You’re always eating!> Sarge scoffed at that fact and snarled, <Why is everyone always eating? You’re killing yourself and hampering your physical cultivation all in one go!>

“This pie was a gift from Madame Mercredi, though? And… what are you talking about, Sarge? I don’t always eat; I’m way too poor for that! Abyss, I’m actually thinner than literally anyone I’ve ever met! People look at me and see a beggar!” As the caravan rumbled along, Grant started nibbling at the pie again. He blinked as he looked down, surprised to find that only half of the delicious pie and a few crumbs remained. Grant licked his fingers and mumbled, “I’m still a growing boy. I need the energy-”

<Growing outwards. Stop that. If you stop hunching like someone is about to hit you at all times, you’re nearly six-and-a-half-feet tall. We’re getting you on a proper cultivation path, starting now. First thing that we’re doing is making a lifestyle change. You’re going to follow the nutrition plan I lay out for you.> Sarge waited for acknowledgement, but Grant didn’t answer. <That means now, kid. Put that food down.>

Grant guiltily put the pie-half back in his backpack, and the conversation between the two of them devolved into what amount of food was necessary. <Right now, all I can do for you is improve your weapon cultivation, but I can help with the others. The Swirling Seasons cultivation manual you got is weak, but it has the impressive benefit of increasing everything evenly. With me, you currently get a double weapon cultivation benefit, but everything else is a on-to-one ratio. I’ll let you know now though, the speed doesn’t matter if you walk the martial path, and are hunting Vassals and Wielders. You’ll see.>

“What’s a ratio?” Grant’s words gave the sword pause for a short description of mathematical concepts. When the human understood the basics, Sarge got right back into the swing.

<Actively working to enhance your body will kickstart your physical cultivation. You'll benefit from working with me to improve your weapon cultivation, but until we find a better way to do it, you’re stuck with the basic version. Better than nothing. Barely.> Grant tried to interject, but Sarge wasn’t having any of it. <The impurities you’ve built up will start melting away, starting with all the extra you have stored on your frame. Now, I can’t do anything about your mind and armor cultivation. You need armor for the second, and enhanced ways of thinking for the other. On the other hand, I am certain that all of the new ways of thinking and new experiences will be enough to increase your mental cultivation in the short-term.>

“Wait… you’re saying I’m going to get even thinner? I thought physical cultivation would help me bulk up! It does for everyone else!” Grant was aghast at the idea that he would start losing even more status rapidly If he followed Sarge's instructions. “I’ve also been gaining points in my mental cultivation when I increase my cultivation level. Is that normal?”

<It is. Each cultivation level increases your characteristic points a random amount between an upper and lower bound. As to physical cultivation… you will bulk up. As you train, and as you lose the bonus weight, you’ll start gaining size rather quickly. Specifically, muscle.> Sarge’s words cut directly to the heart of the matter. <For some reason, this District seems to have thrown away actual, productive, physical cultivation methodologies. I don't understand it, but I'm sure you will find the reason when you continue upon your quest. Enough questions for now… let’s go train.>

Three days of training, walking, and forced starvation later, Grant plucked up the courage to have an actual conversation with the group of guards responsible for looking after the rear of the caravan train. He wasn’t shy, but Grant had more experience talking with farm animals than with people. Life as a ‘Monday’ was still new to him. He had to constantly remind himself that he was no longer a Leap, and the looks he got for cringing away because he was still expecting to be tormented at any moment were starting to get murmurs of concern. For the last few days, as he went through what Sarge called ‘sugar withdrawals’, Grant had just kept to himself and trained when told.

Now that he had a feel for the ‘lifestyle’ - if you called denying yourself every pleasure living - Grant decided that he needed to get out there and practice talking to people. Since Jo told him to talk to ‘Red’ if he needed anything - as Red was a higher ranked ‘Random Guard’ and his superior - Grant did just that. “Pardon this one’s intrusion, senior… when do we get to fight some bandits?”

“What in the seventh layer of the abyss? Senior?” The guards turned wide eyes on Grant, wondering if he was pulling their leg. Realizing he wasn’t, the small group simultaneously burst into laughter. The ferret-faced guard that had spoken continued, “What kinda upbringing did you have, that you’d use such old-fashioned monikers?”

“We’ren’t mercenaries, newbie. Ain’t no bandits ‘round these parts, lad. People are more likely to suffer an attack of indigestion.” The mammoth guard, Red - apparently named after his tangled mass of red hair - replied in amusement and disbelief. To prove his point, he brandished a pair of shiny hand axes. “These things are only for show. You can tell when someone is an actual fighter, because their weapons have been used. Perfect weapons, shiny armor… those are things used by people that don’t fight. Us as guards are just part of the theatre and spectacle that is the Grand January Caravan. At four Hours a day, I’m not paid to fight!”

“Oh.” Grant’s heart sank. He had assumed the trip would give him ample opportunity to hone his new-found sword fighting skills against real fighters, and not just during training with Sarge. “As a guard, I thought I’d have some fighting, or… at least some guarding to do? Hey, wait. Four Hours per day? I’m only getting two!”

“Ah, to be young. When I started, the notice said six Hours of pay! But due to a sugar market crash or some such nonsense, we were forced to take a pay cut.” Red’s words made the entire group chuckle knowingly. “There’s always a sugar market crash when it comes time to bring on a newbie, newbie.”

Understanding dawned on Grant. “Still… why do I only get two?”

“You’re a Random Guard number four. That’s why.” Grant decided not to push the matter as Red continued, “If you’re lucky, you’ll get a chance to shoo away some cattle in the next few days. Make sure you do it where either Jo or some of the other higher-ups can see you, and you’ll get a bonus. Cattle’s a right pain in the fourth chin, if you know what I mean! When the caravan stops, it takes an age to get it up and running again. So, apart from pre-planned stops such as this one or at a village, the caravan must not stop. At all costs. So, move right quick when we tell you.”

The ferret-faced man with a scar above and below his left eye decided to join the conversation. "The closest thing we get to a bandit round these parts are those calendar freaks!”

“Calendar freaks?” Grant asked more out of curiosity than really wanting to know. He’d heard them mentioned more than once, and they were never talked about in positive terms.

“Yeah,” replied a wildly obese guard, showcasing his wealth further by strumming an actual lute by the campfire. “If you’re lucky - or should I say unlucky enough - to come across one, take that chunk of metal at your hip… and stick them with the pointy end! Also, I don’t think we’ve met. The name’s Skinny.”

“Grant Lea… um, Grant Lee Monday. What’s a calendar freak? How will I recognize one?” Grant allowed his concern and enthusiasm seep into his voice. He was both nervous and excited about the prospect of dealing with such a deplorable character.

“Oh, that’s easy!” The ferret-faced leaned forward and stared deeply into Grant’s eyes. “Above his head will be the name… Leap!”

He spat the last word out in an attempt to cleanse his mouth of such a filthy name. Grant shrank back in horror. He was glad that it was dark and they hopefully couldn’t see his features clearly. He had known that he had it rough, but he couldn’t believe leap children were so… despised. This was new information, he had thought he was a special case.

“Ugh… Fergus. I wish you didn’t say that name out loud. Makes me blood run cold and sends shivers up me spine, it does.” Skinny put the lute down by the fire and sighed, releasing his pent-up tension. He’d looked ready to smash the instrument after the conversation turned to the ‘calendar freaks’, likely not for the first time, judging by his reaction.

“Sometimes,” Red added to the mix, “the odd one will try and steal goods from the caravan. In the dark, if we can’t read their name, they can always still be recognized by their build. They’re almost always as thin as rakes. They have to scavenge for food to get by, you see. They won’t be well built like most of us.”

Skinny patted his huge belly and grinned. “That’s one of the reasons Jo hires guards, to stop the thieving vermin!”

“Ya know, Grant.” Fergus leaned in, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “We heard there was one in New Dawn, that town you signed up in. I swear! They kept it alive; probably as a pet. If it was me, I would have gutted it and listened to it squeal.”

Only Red didn’t laugh at this. “You’re one sick man, Fergus. It could have been you. Can you imagine being tossed aside just because you were a Leap? They’re still people, you skinny fool. If they didn’t try and steal from us every time we met one, I wouldn’t care at all.”

Grant flinched again at the word ‘leap’.

“Actually… Me maw did try to get ridda me. She didn’t want a tenth mouth to feed. One night, she tossed me into the woods.” Fergus was trying to hold back laughter as he went on. “Too bad for her, even as a babe, I had an appetite! I bit a tree as I was sailing past it, chewed through the trunk, and knocked it over. Ever since then, she would put me to work getting the firewood for the week!”

The assembled guards around the fire roared in laughter as Red put his head down and made spluttering noises, before coming back up for air with a lopsided grin. Grant broke the good mood of the group a moment later. “I didn’t get a chance to meet him. The Leap I mean. I did hear that he was a hard worker, and well thought of in the village.”

The troop laughed twice as hard at such an absurd statement. Skinny rolled around in hysterics, unable to contain himself, and almost crushed his lute in the process. “Good one, Monday. Good one.”

“Listen. While I were there, I heard a rumor. His caretaker, a guy called Randall,” Red waved his hand to get attention and quiet the others down, “had placed a contract on the Leap… a contract with House Saturday.”

Grant looked around at the involuntary gasps that the others had let out. “What? What does that even mean?”

“Oh, lad, you’re a hundred years too early to be wondering about on your own if you don’t even know this much.” Red shook his head gravely, looking around before speaking again. “I know you’re from a backwater, but you’re a member of the Noble House Monday! How do you not know about…”

Fergus swooped in during the pause, explaining with a low voice, “House Saturday, you young fool. The assassins’ guild.”

“Fergus, you know as well as we all do that there’s no evidence! If even House Tuesday can’t pin anything on them, you can’t be making claims like that! Don't go saying something that will get us killed for no good reason!” Skinny chided him, chucking a small rock at the other guard.

“Every House of the Week has its specialty, and we all know the abyssal truth about House Saturday!” Fergus snarled at Skinny before making a sweeping motion at Grant, “Only reason that Leap is still eatin’ is… well, fact of the matter is that no one wanted to come all the way out here, this far from civilization, to deal with one little Leap! It was too menial a task. I heard they just told Randall to put down some poison and let nature take its course… but he couldn't do that. Lord January has decreed that all kids under sixteen have to be looked after till they come of age.”

Skinny spat into the fire, “I don’t understand it. Everyone knows that the Lords and Ladies made the world have three hundred and sixty-five days. Every four years there’s an extra day to remind us that we need the Lords and Ladies. Leap children are abominations!”

“You’re still going on about that prophecy?” Red shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Nothing keeps you up at night quite like a thousand-year old prophesy that if ‘February Twenty-ninth’ lives, it will become the Calendar King and break time itself. I bet you’re still afraid of the tooth fairy, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m afraid of their larger and much more dangerous cousins, the carnivorous bone fairies!” Fergus’s furious reply made the group howl with laughter.