YoTS: Lord January ~ 13!

CHAPTER 13

Grant looked around the market as if it was the first time. It was all so familiar, yet so alien. As a Leap he had never fit in, but as a Monday he could dine and mingle with any Noble, party all night, every night… and people would lavish all of this on him to gain favor with ‘his’ Noble House.

The fluttering job notice on the post caught his attention once again, and the Grand January Caravan it was discussing had arrived and was in full swing. There was a buzz around it; a vibe that called out to tantalize him with objects and information that he had never before known existed. People scrambled to buy all manner of goods; from exotic spices to kitchen utensils. Pots and pans flew off the shelves - an essential purchase for the numerous chefs in the region. How else would they prepare the daily banquets? Cooking products were always in high demand. Quality cookware was a rarity out here, so far from ‘proper’ civilization.

“Maybe I could just… no. I can’t stop to shop. I have to figure out how to get the abyss out of here.” He strolled up to Madame Mercredi, and simply looked at her for a long moment. He wanted to say good-bye, but found that he couldn’t muster up the energy. He turned away, trying to find something else to focus on. The crowd obliged. The buzz around the caravan still hadn’t died down, and in fact two chefs were squabbling in the dirt. As the combat progressed, each pulled on a deep-dish frying pan.

“It’s mine I tell ya!”

“I saw it first, you two-bit Sous chef!”

“Why would a second-rate line cook like you need a marvelous pan like this?” The woman spat the words at the shocked man, who was clearly horrified to be called a cook.

“How dare you…!”

Grant passed the squabbling pair, drawn like a moth to a flame to anything that could distract him. The crowd parted for a moment, and Grant saw the largest man he had ever seen seated on a wagon. Size is power, which meant this man was powerful. He walked toward the huge man, and was greeted with, “How may I help you, young man?”

The jolly man grin split his prodigious face. He towered over Grant, who certainly couldn’t be called short. A patchwork of colorful material in a multitude of textures enrobed the gentleman, swirling his arms to make a ‘tada’ motion towards the train of carriages. “Don’t be shy! We have all manner of wonders at the Grand January Caravan. I am the owner of the Grand January Caravan, and merchant extraordinaire, Joviality Thursday. You can call me Jo, young friend Monday!”

Grant nodded at the showmanship, impressed despite himself. “Hello, Sir Thursday. I saw your notice, and was thinking about signing on as a caravan guard.”

“Looking for adventure, young buck?” Jo deflated slightly, realising that Grant wasn’t a potential customer. He looked over the young man's clothing, wincing as he realized that a Monday had such low-quality garb. Also… he was so thin! What had happened to this poor thing’s family? “Or… perhaps trying to get to civilization?”

“You could say that.” Grant knew that there had been a misunderstanding, but didn’t mind: it was in his favor. “Is the space still available?”

“We do happen to have a position open for Random Guard number four! Work hard and in a few years my boy, you may even make Random Guard number three, with the respect and recognition that such a lofty position entails!” Jo smiled brightly around Grant, making sure that everyone could see that he was a happy Caravan master.

At first Grant thought the preposterous man was joking about the name of the position; but by the look on his face, he was deadly serious. “I’ll take it, though I only plan to stay on for a short while.”

“I understand, but not so fast!” Jo roared in laughter at Grant’s enthusiasm. “Pay is two Hours per day. We don’t have spare kits, and guards have to supply their own gear. Take this list.”

He presented Grant a scroll of paper, but Grant refused to take it. “Two Hours per day? The notice said three!”

“A sudden recession has hit January. The sugar market has taken a dive; quite unexpected… we are all having to tighten our belts!” He patted his vast frame in sadness. “We leave in one hour. If you are not back within the allotted time, you will have to wait three months until the Grand January Caravan passes by this… quaint backwater. We leave for Mid January!”

“Thank you. It’s been a long day. I accept your terms.” Grant bowed forward, showing proper respect for the caravan master.

“Fifty-eight minutes, Monday.” Jo tapped on his wagon and motioned for Grant to get out of the way. He had sales to make! As soon as Grant stepped aside, Jo’s trademark grin beamed across his face once more. Grant turned and ran around the market, looking for the supplies he would need for such a long trip. As a fringe benefit, since his name was now ‘Monday’, the people that didn’t recognize him were willing to trade with him and not spit… or worse.

“Mid January… the quest ‘Ties that Bind’ said to proceed to Mid January. The place, not the time.” Grant had originally assumed that the quest meant to wait till the middle of the month, when in fact it meant the city. “What had I been thinking? I need to find a teacher.”

He found a general goods stall and picked up a small backpack to store the other gear he planned to purchase. It was thin and poorly constructed, but the best his limited budget could stretch. Grant quickly ticked off the other items; bedroll, boots, a length of hemp rope, bar of soap, waterskin, whetstone, and the most expensive item of all - which wasn’t on the list - a scabbard for February Twenty Nine, costing an entire two Hours!

Then he remembered another issue. Money. Grant had given up at first, setting down everything he had gathered - to the disappointment of the merchant that had been watching him like a hawk - but at the last moment remembered the coins that the Nobles had thrown at him yesterday and he had managed to scoop up. He had hidden them in a tight hand-stitched pocket near his belt, and was so used to being broke that he had forgotten them until this point.

Grant felt that he should run back to Becky and pay her for the care she had given him, but the scabbard was a necessity. He could hardly go on a grand adventure with a Wielded Weapon wrapped in tattered bandages… Grant could picture it already.

‘Give me a minute, bandits. I just have to remove these bandages from my sword before we can fight. That's okay? Eat this pie while you wait, so sorry for your trouble!’ Grant laughed to himself at the inane thought. He passed by the apothecary’s stall just then, and looked at the small amount of coin he had remaining. “Becky, are you there?”

She popped her head up from amongst a collection of ferns, “Hey there, Grant. Everything alright? You look pleased with yourself. How’s the leg?”

“I made a decision,” he paused, and placed every coin he had on the wood between them. “The leg, it’s fine.”

“Great. I’m busy at the moment. Don’t have much time to chat right now. Can I catch up with you later?” Becky saw the coins just then, and a sour expression crossed her face.

“I’m off to Mid January, with the Grand January Caravan. We leave in under an hour.” He smiled at her, but his grin faded as her face darkened further.

“I told you to sell the sword. You were supposed to…” She slammed her hands on the table, then waved at the coins. “What’s this, then?”

“Payment. Everything I have for what you did for me.” Grant’s voice was softer, he had wanted this to be a happy parting.

“Just wait here.” She snorted, then ducked into the back and returned holding an item wrapped in a protective film. “I’m not going to swindle you. The Vassal paid in full for both of you, and then some. Take this.”

“What… is it?”

“It’s a Healer’s kit. Contains a poultice like the one we used on you, and some other essential items for the aspiring adventurer!” She spat the last word and shoved the package into his hands, then turned away to try and draw in customers.

Grant stared at the package, and lightly set it down on the counter. “Becky… you’ve done too much for me already.”

“Nonsense. I also don’t agree with your decision. I’d be off partying like there’s no tomorrow, and you would be paying for it. That’s the repayment I wanted.” She laughed darkly, still looking away. “But it’s your decision to make. Frankly, it’s pretty terrible of me to want you to die so that I can have a fun year. I’m… I'm sorry I’ve been so cold about this. Come back one day, and tell me all your tales and adventures.”

Grant hesitated for a moment, unsure how to handle the abrupt shifts this conversation had taken. “I will. I promise.”

“Don’t die.” She leaned over the counter and embraced him in a light hug, then shoved him. “Look. Go. The caravan has started rolling/”

With a wave, Grant was off. The only time he glanced back, he thought he saw a tear in her eye. A strange woman, that. He darted through the stalls towards the caravan that was slowly making a getaway, inching its bulk forward. A familiar voice made him slow once more, “Granite!”

“Madame Mercredi. I don’t have time to stop. I’m off to Mid January-!”

“Not without one of my delicious pies you’re not!” Bony arms darted out in front. She presented him with a succulent chicken and leek pie. “Go on now, girl. Remember… eat regularly and wash. For the love of the Lords and Ladies of the Month, wash. The state you were in yesterday!”

“Don’t worry. I own soap now.” With a wave and an eye roll, he ran to catch the caravan that was making its leisurely escape.

The final carriage had snaked out of the market, and he easily caught up to it and hopped on the front carriage, sitting beside a chuckling Jo. “I thought you weren’t going to make it, young Lord Monday.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Sir Thursday.” Grant was heaving deep breaths from the run, and sweat was pouring down his face. “That was harder than I thought it would be.”

“I assume you got everything you need?” Jo handed over a waterskin to the heaving young man.

“Yes. It’s all here.” Grant patted his new backpack, almost poking a hole through the thin material.

Jovality waved toward the horizon, and let out a deep belly laugh. “Then let the travels begin, Grant Monday! Destination… adventure! Wealth! Hedonism forever!”

The caravan creaked its way ponderously out of the town; past shacks, small houses, then vast villas and estates. As the sun set, Grant could hear the sound of distant laughter and music as people dug into one of their many banquets.

Grant was happy to leave most of these people behind; his only worry was the animals he left behind. His life had been turned upside down these past three days, but he had made his choice. He was determined to Heal the World.

At the minimum…  he would die trying.