YoTS: Lord January ~ 6!

CHAPTER 6

There was a hubbub at the market. It was packed with people from all walks of life; servants whispered excitedly, Aristocrats talked in overly loud voices, and merchants fell somewhere in between. Grant caught words like ‘spectacle’ and ‘fireworks’. He tried squeezing past stealthily, but the cart gave away his presence, squealing as the wheel spun. Servants and well-to-do alike turned away in disgust from the wretched creature in their midst, glaring daggers at his cloth-coated form.

“It was spectacular!” A noble gentleman mused.

“Lord January really outdid himself this year. I expected some fireworks, but not a full theatrical display.” A feminine voice spoke haughtily.

“Indeed, Lady Wednesday.” One of the men nodded vigorously in agreement. “I almost choked on a leg of lamb when the first clash resounded!”

“Hoo, hoo, hoo. It was quite something.”

“No, no. I heard Lord January wasn’t behind the festivities. Not beyond what we are used to, anyway.”

“I’ve heard this as well! Apparently, a magigram was sent thanking Lord January. His court replied that there were no fireworks or magical theatrical events scheduled for that evening. Hold on… what,” Noble noses wrinkled, and Lady Wednesday finished her statement by gagging, “is that revolting smell?”

“Eeek! A diseased monster!”

“Quick, Lord Tuesday! Throw some Time at it, maybe it will go away.” The group of Nobles tossed handfuls of Time at Grant. The coins stung as they struck his unprotected arms and legs, but despite the pain and humiliation, he dropped to all fours to collect them. Grant told himself that it was all for the act, but he knew that he desperately needed the money. He quickly shuffled off, leaving the Nobles to their discussion. He glanced around, finding that they had already forgotten he existed and were animatedly gossiping over last night's events. One Lord spread his arms mimicking an explosion, laughing the whole time.

Grant squeezed through the masses. Most people gave him a wide berth; the rotten repellent field proved rather effective. He froze as a familiar voice drifted over, “Anyone seen Leap today? I figure we could use the time everyone’s distracted to shove him in a hole and throw rocks at him.”

Grant glanced up to see the group of bullies, led by Mo, searching through the crowd. “Nah. He usually gets here just before closing time.”

“Be on the lookout, boys. After he knocked out my tooth, I struggled with eating dinner! I managed, but I couldn’t eat as fast as the new plates were brought out! I even… I missed the fourth round of dessert.”

There was a sharp intake of breath as his co-conspirators gasped at the unfortunate event. To be deprived of a dessert? Simply shocking. Grant, bent over and head down, hobbled with the cart to a familiar stall. “Sorry dear. I don’t have any spare Time. Can I offer an egg in these trying times?”

Madame Mercredi presented the leper with a tasty-looking omelette. “Madame Mercredi, it’s me, Grant.”

“Eh? Granite?” She scratched at her head in confusion. “Why are you playing tricks on an old woman… and what in the name of Lord January are you wearing?”

“I’m sorry… I was kicked in the face by a cow last night.” Grant was ashamed to be lying to the kind old woman, but he had no choice. “My face is pretty messed up. After I’m done here, I’m going to the apothecary to get some ointment and fresh bandages. Here’s today’s milk.”

“Oh, and the eggs, all unbroken today.” Grant grinned under the bandages, not that she would have noticed anyway. He handed over the heavy milk jug. Although it was just as full as it was yesterday, it felt lighter.

“Thank you, dear. But… that doesn’t explain the smell. Please have a wash, girl. Men don’t like skinny girls, but they also aren’t too keen on smelly ones either!” She smiled up at him while holding her nose. She cackled to herself, “I speak from experience. Back in the day, I was known throughout the land for my seductive curves.”

“Do you know why it’s so busy in the market today?” With a shudder, he tried his best to put the picture of a more curvaceous Madame Mercredi firmly out of his mind. “I usually come later, but I’m pretty sure it’s never like this?”

“Something to do with swords and fireworks. I can’t hear much with these old ears.” She wiggled a droopy ear to make her point. “All morning people have been coming, demanding answers. Lords, Ladies, servants, even Vassals if you believe it. I told them I was busy counting sheep last night, hehe. After me cocoa, I go straight to bed. Here’s your Time, dear.”

Grant tried to let her know that she had already paid in full the day before, but she resolutely ignored him. She counted out one Hour and thirty Minutes and handed them over. “Go on, head over to the apothecary and get yourself fixed up.”

“I will. Thank you, Madame Mercredi.”

She waved as if it was nothing. Now, Grant had no choice but to pass by the apothecary’s stall. At least it would give him a chance to overhear more gossip. Taking the empty cart and previous day’s milk jug he crossed the thronging market square. People were still excitedly discussing and debating the events of last night, but the tales were starting to become wilder.

“There was a sword, I tell ya! It was attacking something… something dangerous!”

“Where? I didn’t see anything like that,” a voice scoffed in return. “All I saw were some fireworks.”

“Up in the sky, you dolt!” The Lord pointed up, shaking his finger vigorously.

“I don’t know. Sounds a bit far fetched. Swords and all. Sounds like someone had too much wine!” The group laughed haughtily.

“I know what I saw.” Grant moved on, careful not to bring attention to himself. The crowd parted easily in an attempt to avoid the incoming stench.

“Excuse me, sir.” Grant ignored the voice coming from near his elbow and kept his head down as he crept through the masses. “Hello. I’m talking to you.”

A servant came uncomfortably close. The middle-aged man was wearing a tailored orange shirt and pants, emblazoned with the coat of arms of House Wednesday.

“Oh… hello, m’lord. I’ll be on my way. Sorry.” Grant’s knuckles went white as his grip on his cart tightened.

“Wait. I was wondering if you had news of the events of last night. People are saying there was an epic battle in the sky. That the twelve Lords of the Month were fighting in the heavens, and the winner wielded a silver sword?”

“Um… sounds unlikely.” Grant refused to meet the other man’s eyes.

“I was working in the kitchens.” The servant continued on, uncaring of how uncomfortable Grant was. “After serving the sixth round of main courses, I nipped out to fetch another cask of wine. My lord would have my hide if it ran out… anyway, as I was saying… I saw bright lights in the sky. It seemed to be coming from over a field to the north. Please, sir. Did you see anything? I’ll split the reward with you!”

“Reward?” That single word made Grant go cold.

“Yes. Lord Wednesday is offering a reward for any information. He even sent a magigram to the court of Lord January. Sir Thirty First is in the region and coming to investigate!”

“Okay…” Grant’s eyes darted around, like those of a caged animal looking for a way to escape. “I-I’m sorry. I have to go and get these festering wounds looked at. My face might fall off if I don’t hurry!”

He pushed on through the crowd, ignoring the sputtering servant and getting more than one angry stare and curse. He shook his head in bewilderment. “My face might fall off? Seriously? That’s the best that I could come up with?”

Up ahead lay the apothecary's stall. He had no intention of buying anything; he had just earned a few small coins by appearing to be diseased, but that didn’t mean he felt a burning need to spend them. Plus, there was little wrong with him that a bar of soap, hot water, and a good scrub couldn’t fix. Still, it was nice to have an excuse to look over the wares.

Jars of all sizes lined the stall, and cages holding a variety of plants and chittering animals hung from beams. Every surface held one wonder or another. Mysterious potions and unguents. Some fizzed, others bubbled. Most lay inert, thick pastes in a multitude of colors. He picked one up, a fist sized bottle with contents so dark they absorbed all light. Writing was scrawled on the label in a language he didn’t understand. As a Leap child, schooling wasn’t exactly forbidden, but it was just as likely that he would become the Lord of the Month as it was that he would learn a skilled trade.

Despite that, he managed to teach himself the basics of words over the years by reading quest descriptions in his status sheet and by deciphering signs. Working on the farm, he didn’t need to know how to read, but it was important to him to strive to be better tomorrow than he was today. As the apothecary was busy serving a customer, he went to pop the lid on an interesting looking bottle and give it a good sniff.

“Hey! What are you doing?” A hand clasped over the lid and yanked the bottle out of his hands, just before he managed to break the seal. “Can’t you read? If you’d opened that, half the market would be comatose for a week! The apothecary would lose her licence at best, and be thrown in jail at worst! You’d be long dead by then, so you wouldn't exactly have to worry about it, but it seems unfair to the rest of us!”

“Oh… sorry. I didn’t realise. I just wanted to sniff it.” His cheeks burned in embarrassment at the stupidity of his words. “I thought it might smell nice.”

“Sniff it? Wait… Grant? Is that you? What happened to you? You weren’t hurt that badly when I left you yesterday!” Grant looked up from the bottle to see Becky looking at him, her brow furrowed in worry.

He didn’t realise why he didn't make the connection that Becky, as a herbalist, would work for the apothecary. Feeling even more stupid than when he almost put half the market to sleep, he blurted out, “Shhh. Not so loud! My head's throbbing. I… I was kicked in the face… by a cow.”

“Let me have a look at it.” She reached over to tug at the bandages, concern etched in her face. “I’m sure we have something here that can help.”

“No. Please. I can’t. I don’t have any money.”

“Don’t worry. You can owe me one.” She smiled at him and went once again to pull at the bandages.

“I said no!” He spat the words out rather forcefully.

She pulled her hands away as if stung. “I… I was only trying to help.”

“No. I’m sorry, Becky. I just… I can’t explain it right now…” Grant twisted away, but her soft hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him back. Grant had assumed the strong medicinal smells were covering up his rags, but at this distance?

“No problem. I can’t say that I understand… but it’s up to you. Here, take this for now.” She replaced the bottle he previously held with a roll of medicated bandages. “It will help. You know where to find me, Grant. If you don't want a permanent disfigurement, come soon.”

He flinched as she said his name, not wanting anyone to overhear it. Unlikely considering the din of the market, but he was full of paranoia today. Becky continued speaking, “If I’m not here, you will find me in the house next to the bakery across the square. The one with the red door. Take care of yourself.”

Grant mumbled his thanks, face burning with shame. He took the opportunity to head back to the farm. If anything, the market was even busier by the time he escaped. People spoke excitedly, with a few even trying to leap into the air with their oversized bodies, mimicking explosions and thrusting imaginary swords. They soon stopped, sweating heavily and panting at their heads with lace cloths. If the hubbub hadn’t been his fault, he would have stayed to watch: it was a sight to behold.

But it was his fault. Right now, his heart pounded, threatening to escape his chest and burst through the rotten cauliflower sack. Apart from Becky and Madame Mercredi, who thought he was a girl called Granite… no one realised that Grant had visited the market.

Best of all, no one knew that he was now named Grant Monday. He grumbled at himself as he raced up the path, “So much for people being too busy partying and drinking to realise anything had happened. Lousy sword!”