Dokeshi March: Chapter 23 (Patreon)

Chapter 23

“Well, that was a colossal failure.”  Suki was rubbing some ointment on the burn where her gauntlet touched her shoulder.  “I can’t believe we fell for such a simple trap.”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t seem that bad.”  Grant was doing his best to get the door to the abandoned leatherworker shop back in its frame while they talked.  “We couldn’t have known there was a trap on the door they must use several times a day.”  He grunted as the door finally popped into place.  “And you did get that key from the guard.  You never know, that might be useful later on.”

<And, the guard you defeated was a Vassal, so it helped with your cultivation.>  Sarge sounded upbeat at first, before dropping his voice to a whisper.  <It was still pretty embarrassing, though.>

“Don’t try to make this sound like some kind of victory.”  Suki finished applying the ointment and started laying out their bedrolls.  “It was a complete failure.”

“Well, at least we learned how the doors operate.”  Grant walked over to Suki’s pack and pulled out the map she had stored in a side pocket.  “I think I might know how they operate.”

“You can’t even understand how to play Bridge, but you understand how their security works all of a sudden?”  Suki was struggling to run a brush through her frazzled hair, the lightning trap having made it a tangled mess.  “Please, enlighten me, oh wise one.”

“Look, you don’t have to be so mean about it.  And it isn’t my fault there is a game called ‘Bridge’ that doesn’t even involve a single bit of construction.”  Grant spread the map out on a worn work table, mumbling about people naming things in a way that made no sense.  “Just look at the doors marked on the map.  This whole thing is a circle, right?  Well, we were trying to enter at the nine o’clock position.  Do you remember what that guard said?  It only opens when the ninth bell rings.”

“So, you are saying that if we go to the ten o’clock position, the door will open at the tenth bell?”  Suki took a good look at the map, tracing her finger across all the marked positions.  “Okay, let’s say you are right.  We still have to get you at a level high enough to prove you belong in the next region.  How do we do that?”

“Well, maybe all I really need is practice.”  Grant pointed to a large square on the map only a few blocks from the eleven o’clock position.  “How much do you want to bet this is a big market square of some kind?  We could make it there before dark tomorrow if we hurry.  I should be able to get some practice in, and then we can just enter the casino at the eleventh bell.”

“Hmmm…”  Suki contemplated the map a bit longer, still fighting her hair with a brush.  “Okay.  I can’t think of anything better, and it’s probably a good idea to try and enter a bit farther from our failed attempt.”  She grabbed the map and repacked it before laying down on her bedroll.  “And, if you fail, we can still try fighting our way through.  I’m sure it will be easier once we are already inside.”

“Now who’s tempting fate?”  Grant arched his eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face.  It didn’t last long.  The two of them burst into laughter, relieving some of the tension that had hung over them ever since their failure.  “You should get some rest, and try to recover from the shocking events at the gate.  I’ll head down to the basement and get some training in.”

“I have to admit, I’m impressed.”  Suki pulled her blanket up to her chin and rolled over.  “You have enough dedication to training that I think the people in District February would be jealous.”

Grant snorted in disbelief.  He had seen the way they trained.  No thanks.  He didn’t want to get blown away by a stiff breeze.  And, more importantly, he was determined to find a steak and eat it all.  Even if he had to kill the cow himself.

<I think it would be a good idea to practice your Iaijutsu from a seated position today.>  Sarge was already planning the training Grant was about to complete.  <You are going to be doing a lot of sitting around at card tables, so I think you should be prepared if something goes wrong.>  The sword spirit paused for a moment.  <Because we both know something is going to go horribly wrong before this is over with.>

Grant didn’t have a reply for that.  He couldn’t fault Sarge for thinking so, considering how things tended to go.  Instead of saying anything, he went down to the basement.

He cobbled together a few empty crates left by the former owners to simulate a table and chair, then got to work.  Sarge ran him through a gambit of enemies, attacking him from all kinds of different angles.  Grant wasn’t sure how likely it was that a horned rabbit would attack his legs under the table while he was playing cards, but he went through with it anyway.

After spending the first hour practicing every imaginable way to fight while seated, Sarge decided to up the ante.  Grant had to stay in a sitting position without the help of a chair, his legs quickly trembling from the pain of the uncomfortable position.  To make his training worse, he started dropping slimes on his head again.  It required Grant to intercept them perfectly, swatting them away center-mass with the full length of the side of his blade.  If he was just a little bit off, they could still reach him with at least a portion of their caustic bodies.

<Perfect!>  Grant slapped aside an orange-colored slime with the flat of his blade, and turned the motion into a slash that bisected a faceless man wielding a narrow dagger.  <That’s it!  If you keep this up, you might have a real chance at winning!>  Sarge’s mental shout caused him to miss the next object headed his direction, a sharp-edged card that struck Grant on the end of the nose.  He reflexively jerked his head back, throwing off his precarious balance.

“Oomph…”  Landing hard on his backside, Grant still managed to remove the hand of the second dagger-wielder trying to make his insides go on the outside.  He raised up his legs to try and flip his weight forward to help him back to his feet, but the motion caused him to accidentally kick the edge of the old crate functioning as a table.  It exploded into a cloud of splinters, making a loud racket that he was certain would cause Suki to wake up ready for a fight.  “Ah Regents, that isn’t good.”

<You better get up there and tell Suki you’re okay, otherwise you are going to regret it.>  Sarge continued as soon as Grant was back on his feet and had his Uchigatana sheathed on his belt.  <We should probably wrap it up for the day anyway.  Now that you have some training with fighting while seated, it’s time to practice what you will be doing at the tables in the first place.>

When Grant made it to the top of the stairs, he was shocked to see Suki still asleep.  Apparently, the last few days had been enough to wear out even her incredible stamina.  He quietly walked outside, searching for a well or rain barrel to wash himself with.  The smell of training for so long wasn’t a pleasant one, and he would need to be somewhat presentable when they sat down at the high-roller tables.

<I’m glad I don’t have to argue with you about bathing anymore.>  Sarge chuckled in Grant’s mind.  <You used to be a pretty smelly guy.>

“Well, my Mental Cultivation was a four when we first met, if you remember correctly.”  Grant flicked his eyes to review his current levels.  “I’m at eighty-seven now.  I would say that probably has something to do with it.”

<Oh, most definitely.  That’s an improvement of almost twenty-two times what you used to be.>  Sarge let that fact sink in for a minute.  <Now, just imagine what it will be like when you are in the hundreds!  If I had any money, I would bet you might even be able to feed yourself without making a mess by then!>  Before Grant could start an argument about how he could already do so, Sarge’s laughter interrupted him.

“Yeah, real funny.”  Grant eventually tracked down a well in the back corner of the rear of the lot, and started washing up.  The sword spirit was only giving him a hard time.  “Seriously though, what kind of improvements can I expect when my mental cultivation finally gets into the hundreds?”

<It’s hard to say.>  Sarge was suddenly serious, seeing the opportunity to teach Grant something important.  <Obviously, your ability to remember things and speed of thought will increase, along with your maximum mana and mana regeneration levels.>  The sword was quiet for a moment, lost in thought.  <I have heard that people can do wondrous things with a higher mental cultivation level, but I don’t think that’s in the cards for you.  You’re a fighter, a warrior, and that means you will probably just get a flat improvement in those skills.>

“That makes sense.”  Grant was scrubbing his armor now, trying to get the sweat stains out of the leather clasps that held it together.  “I just didn’t know if there was anything special to look forward to.”

<Don’t be in a rush to put too much on your plate, Grant.>  Sarge let out a long sigh.  It was unnecessary, considering he didn’t have lungs, but it seemed to be an ingrained habit.  <You already have quite a full plate.  Besides, you have a different goal right now.  Remember, civilize the mind, but make savage the body.>

That was something Grant was sure he could do.