YoTS: Lord January ~ 10!

CHAPTER 10

*Bam, bam, bam.*

“It’s this house, right? Becky said it was the one with the red door.” Grant didn’t want to knock too loudly for fear of waking up the neighbourhood. He winced, and hoped for the best as he heard movement coming from within. “Celestials, I hope it was the red one.”

The muffled voice that came out didn't help his anxiety. “Who’s there?”

“Becky, I need your help!” Grant called out in a stage whisper. “It’s Grant!”

The voice came closer, and he relaxed as he recognized it as Becky's. “Grant… who?”

Grant knew that there would be no disguising himself this time, so he went with a lie he had prepared. “A few days ago, I was Grant Leap. I got… adopted, and now I’m officially Grant Monday.”

“What are you doing here at this time of night?” The door finally opened a crack, and Becky's face peeked out of the opening. She was able to see the state of the man on Grant’s cart, and the door flew open the rest of the way. “Celestials, Grant! What happened to you? Who is this?”

“Long story. Too long to tell right now, he's dying. Help me! Help him, he’s a cultivator in the service of a Noble!” They dragged the bulky character through the red door, leaving too large of a blood trail to be healthy. Just as worryingly, the man’s moaning had stopped entirely.

“On the table. Quick now.” The herbalist swept the dishes off the table in a single motion. The body landed with a thud, and the table creaked alarmingly. “Get me alcohol and fresh bandages.”

Grant looked around, trying to decipher the text on the various bottles. Becky saw his confusion and snapped, “The big clear one with the red ‘X’ symbol. Bandages are over there. Hurry!”

She took the bottle of spirits and took a swig before applying a generous amount to the gaping wound, holding it together with the other hand. “This isn’t the best way to sterilize, it's going to leave a nasty scar and maybe damage the tissue permanently. However, it is still going to be the fastest way to work on him without an infection setting in after I'm done. Grant, hold here while I sew up.”

Grant hesitated; he didn’t like being around blood. He steeled himself and pressed his hands on the torn flesh. He had caused this, if he wasn't willing to help heal it, if he was going to be sick at the sight of blood, he needed to give up on his dreams of being a fighter right now. The man didn’t stir. Grant was glad, he didn’t want to be reminded of the pain that he had inflicted upon him. After many deft strokes, Becky had sewn up the man’s stomach and applied a fresh set of bandages.

“Will he live?” Grant was unable to hold back the question, he needed to know.

“You got here in time… I think. After I apply a poultice, and with plenty of rest, he should be as good as new. The wound wasn’t too deep, but the big danger is the risk of a massive infection debuff. People can even die from small cuts that are left untreated.” She glanced down, her focus on the bloody red bandage wrapped around his thigh. “Grant! Your leg! Let me have a look at it!”

“It’s nothing.” He assumed levelling up had healed the wound, just like it had removed his aches and pains after hitting level two.

“Nonsense. Didn’t you hear what I just said? Even small cuts need to be treated.” She unwound the bandage constricting his thigh and stammered, “Oh, my. That’s… that’s not a small cut.”

“Huh?” He glanced down and felt the blood drain from his face. He’d been wrong. It appeared leveling up did not heal all of his wounds. The last thing he remembered before collapsing was a flapping flag of flesh, the white of bone appearing with each movement.

Grant came around, hours later, lying on a cot with fresh sheets. This beat his bed of hay any day. He snuggled into the pillow, trying not to remember where he was. No luck.

“You’re finally up?” A beautiful woman looked down on him, and for a long moment Grant was lost in the ecstasy of waking up to a smiling face.

“Oh… hello.” Recollection flood back. The chase, waterfall, fight, and talking sword. The murder of Nobles. Grant sat bolt upright, wincing in pain. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, better than you, surprisingly.” She laughed and pushed him down as Grant tried to struggle to his feet. “You’ll be okay after some rest, but I can’t believe you managed to get here, dragging him, with your leg in that condition. You’re a hero, Grant!”

“How did you manage to fix my leg?” He ignored her last comment. His leg was stiff and a little sore, but the last time he saw it the limb was abyss-near ready to fall off. Grant reached out to touch something covering the wound, and his hand was promptly slapped away.

“What is it with you wanting to touch or sniff things? I had to apply a poultice of Greater Healing.” Her hand, used to slap at him, was now resting on his leg gently.

“Sounds… expensive.” He’d never used a poultice, let alone a greater one. Grant couldn’t stop staring at her hand, she let it remain where it was even as she noticed his stare.

“The ingredients are rather difficult to find… iridescent fungus, fire beetle larvae, turmeric, aloe vera, and some other odds and ends. Then, lots and lots of mana. Iridescent fungus can only be collected at midnight and forms the base. Fire beetles are pretty common but the mothers protect their larvae and spit flame at intruders. Crushed, blended and titrated, the ingredients are soaked in a bandage becoming the poultice you see before you.”

“Sounds like a lot of work…” Grant gulped, wondering how he would ever find a way to pay this off.

“Oh, yes. At least eighty hours of work per poultice. We sell it for eight Days and eight Hours at the stall. Most people would rather hand over the time than go out collecting. Especially when they are already wounded.” Becky grinned as Grant blanched at the figures she was casually throwing around. He had seen Minutes and Hours, but Day coins were for skilled laborers or people that could afford to save up.

To him, eight full Day coins was a vast fortune. “I… I can’t afford to pay for that. I only came to seek help for the cultivator.”

“What are friends for?” She was grinning down at him. Friend? She considered him a friend? “Besides, you saved a cultivator in service to an actual Wielder. I’ll just add the charge onto his Lord’s bill. They’ll never know.”

“I don’t know what to say… except, thank you. I will repay your kindness,” Grant promised both her, and himself.

“I have nothing better to do in the middle of the night than fix people up. Who needs sleep?” Becky’s face drooped, and Grant could see dark bags under her eyes for the first time. In his heart, he reinforced the promise he had just made.

“Wait. Becky, I need your advice.” The smile faded from his face. Before he could say anything else, she pressed a firm, beefy hand against his chest.

“Rest first. I’ll make breakfast.”

She stood and turned to go, but he couldn’t let her. She needed to know, she could be in danger. He would lose his resolve if he let her go right now. “No. This is serious. Becky. I… I killed Sir Thirty First, a Vassal, and a cultivator last night.”

There was a sharp intake of breath as she processed this news, and she stumbled away from him; fear of him showing on her face. “How? Why?”

“Sir Thirty First killed himself. I was just standing there with my sword… and he just…  fell on it.” Grant’s hands were shaking, and he couldn’t stop seeing the blood that he knew had already been cleaned off.

“Okay… just let me go and get, um, breakfast. Yeah, breakfast. Not the peacekeepers of House Tuesday. Just food.” She started edging away, her eyes flicking to the sword that she had just… left next to the murderer in her house.

“Becky, I mean it. He had an asthma attack and collapsed right there. He was inspecting my sword, and he just… fell.” Grant’s voice broke on the last word, and Becky calmed down as she saw that Grant was being tormented by what he had gone through.

Then, a dark suspicion formed in her mind. Now she wasn't wondering if he was a bad person, she was wondering if he was full-on crazy. “Where did you get a sword, Grant? Yesterday you were being bullied by Mo and his gang, and now you’re a Vassal and Wielder murderer? How does one go from not winning against bullies, to killing trained cultivators?”

“It’s been an interesting year.” Grant laughed weakly, hoping she wouldn’t run out of the room before he could finish what he had to say. Her stance became less guarded, and she took a step toward him.

“I got this sword…” He waved at February Twenty Nine, which was pretending to be all innocent, and his tone darkened, “When I picked it up, it changed everything. My personality, my confidence, it gave me a cultivation method that I just know somehow… and now I’m Grant Monday!”

“What advice do you want? Turn yourself in? Throw yourself at the mercy of Lord January? I’m not sure how I can help.” Becky put her hands in the air placatingly, paling as she realized she was chastising an actual murderer. “You committed treason, Grant. There's no way out of that. It doesn't matter how crazy you try to pretend to be.”

“Becky. When I picked up the sword, I triggered the start of a mandatory quest. Let me explain it to you.” He opened up his status sheet and started reading. “The quest is called ‘Heal the World’. Here’s the details: the Wielder of February Twenty Nine, Grant Monday, has one year to gather the power of the Lords of the Month and return February Twenty Nine to a completed weapon.”

Grant took a deep breath, then finished explaining the rest of the quest. “The reward sounds pretty sweet. Completion of the quest, Heal the World, will result in the reward of the title ‘Calendar King’, and all wealth and responsibilities associated with that position. If I fail to complete this mandatory quest, it will result in the loss of all cultivation levels gained since the acquisition of February Twenty Nine, plus the loss of an additional one level.”

She sat there for a minute contemplating all the information that he had dumped on her. Then she let out a scoff, “To complete the quest you have to defeat the Lords of the Months? All of them? In one year? That’s crazy! How can you possibly defeat the most powerful people in all the twelve districts?”

“I… haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“Can you repeat the last part?” Becky's eyes lit up, I think I might have found a loophole.”

“Sure. It doesn’t sound so bad, does it? I have always dreamed of levelling up, but I don’t know what becoming the Calendar King means. You think I could be a king? I might like-”

“Grant!” Becky snapped her fingers in Grant’s face. “This is important. Tell me again what happens if you fail.”

“Okay. Sorry… failure to complete the mandatory quest, Heal the World, within one year, will result in the loss of all cultivation levels gained since the acquisition of February Twenty Nine, plus the loss of an additional one level.” Grant recited once more.

“What were you so worried about?” Becky clapped, then swatted at him almost playfully before she remembered where they were right now. In her house. Alone. His weapon within reach. “So you lose a level, so what? What level were you when you picked up February Twenty Nine?”

“Zero. But, I’m level four now!” He shook his head at his sudden change in circumstances. “So, you think it wouldn't be so bad? I really thought it sounded like something terrible would happen.”

Becky sat down, her head shaking to ward off his stumbling questions. “I hate to break it to you… if you fail to complete the quest, you will drop to level minus one. Which means… you’ll die. Instantly.”

Grant lay there silently for a moment, swallowing and trying to force out the words. “It… does? I’d hoped someone would know a better way. I don’t want to do this quest… but I really don’t want to die.”

“I know what you should do, Grant.” Becky nodded firmly at him and reached out a hand to brush his arm tenderly. “If I was you, I would take this opportunity to live like a Noble. Sell the sword to Lord January. Gorge yourself on delicious food, the likes of which we could never imagine. Party hard. Maybe bring a pretty girl along for the ride? Have the best year of your life, and leave a pretty corpse!”

He sank his head into his hands. “Maybe you’re right, Becky.”

“Of course I am, Grant. There is no way to complete that quest. Not only do you need to defeat all the Lords of the Month, you would need to travel around the entire world in under a year. It’ll be way easier if you just give up, Grant. The end result will be the same either way.” Becky leaned in and traced his lips with a finger, she stood and turned to go.

“I’ll be right back, with breakfast.”