Junfa April: Chapters 31-35 (Patreon)

Chapter 31

Grant finished eating his food, and went searching for Reimaria.  He had to try his best to talk her out of fighting that guy.  No matter what the safety restrictions were in the training bouts, you could still be killed by a single blow to the… well, everywhere in this case.

<That’s probably why she didn’t say anything earlier.  She didn’t want you or the others to try and talk her out of it.>

“Did you see that guy, Sarge?”  Grant glanced back at April Second’s Prime Vassal.  It was easy to see him, considering he stood head-and-shoulders above the crowd.  “She is going to get destroyed.  Reimaria hasn’t even had time to learn how to fight with her new mace!”

<Is it your job to take care of her?  To make those decisions for her?>  Grant paused in his search for Reimaria.  <Is it fear for her that makes you want to stop her from fighting, or is it your own discomfort at her risking injury that is making you try to interrupt the match?>

“I… I’m not sure.”  Grant tried to take an objective view at what he was feeling.  “I’m concerned for my friend.  I don’t want her to get hurt.”

<Look around.  Truly look.  Does this look like a group ready to see some blood?>  Grant did as Sarge asked, and finally realized what Sarge was talking about.  There were people laughing, kids running underfoot, groups were singing and playing instruments, and even the competitors were joking and talking with one another.  <This isn’t one of those crazy death matches, or life-and-death fights.  It is a friendly competition.  Your friend isn’t going to die if she loses.  The worst thing injured will be her pride.>

“Are you sure?”  Grant had always faced fights that had harsh consequences if he lost.

<I’m sure.  This is not a bloodthirsty crowd looking for blood.>  Sarge thrummed in his sheath.  <They are treating these matches like training, but you can defeat the other Wielders, and increase your cultivation!>

“Are you ready, mate?”  Junfa April appeared next to Grant, who had been distracted by his conversation with Sarge.  “Have you heard the rules yet?”

“Not yet, Junfa April.”  Grant motioned to where the Warden and his followers were placing a ring of stone-covered runes inside the circled wagons.  “How do those stones work?”

“They are from a set of items from before the Wielder Wars.  The Anti Flame Fanatics are responsible for keeping track of all artifacts, since they are an impartial party outside the houses.”  Junfa April waved him over, where the Warden was making sure the stones were spaced evenly.  “There aren’t many that have survived the last nine hundred and ninety-nine years, but they take good care of them.  Each convoy has one of these sets.  They allow the person holding the control device to stop anyone inside from moving when they activate it.  That means we can train like it is a real fight, but the controller can stop the fight before anyone gets hurt.”

“Have you ever seen little statues, from a game called ‘chess’ in any of those artifacts?”  Grant had a quest involving collecting an ancient chess set of pieces from the Wielder Wars, but hadn’t seen any besides the one he carried.

“You will have to ask the Warden about that.  I don’t deal with the artifacts.”  Junfa April stepped into the ring of stones, and Grant saw a slight yellow glow flash over her when she crossed over them.  “Would you like to have another practice session, like we did last night?”

“I don’t know.”  Grant swallowed hard, remembering what had just happened to him less than a day ago.  “It didn’t go very well.”

“You held back last time, because you didn’t want to hurt me.  You don’t have to do that this time.  Just make sure you don’t use any spells.”  Junfa April unfurled a whip.  “And let’s make it more interesting.  We fight without our Wielded Weapons.  I will use a plain whip, and you use a regular sword.”

<Try it.  You can better gauge where your natural abilities are.>  Grant looked up at Junfa April and gave her a slow nod of agreement.  <I will do my best to stay out of this.  I am also interested to see how far you have come in less than four month’s time.>

“Fine.  I’m willing to try it.”  Grant was handed a plain sword that was much heavier than his Uchigatana.  He swung it around a few times before untying his sword from his belt and placing it outside the circle.  “What are the rules?”

“In a normal match, it would just be that you aren’t allowed to use magic or Wielded Weapon abilities that do instant or over-time damage.”  Junfa April handed off her whips to the same attendant that had handed Grant the plain sword.  They gave her two plain whips, that lacked the weight to his senses her Wielded Weapons carried.  “In this match, I don’t want you to hold anything back.  You can use whatever skills and such you have at your disposal, with the exception of that lightning spell you have.”

“Sounds agreeable.”  Grant leaned forward, his borrowed sword heavy in his grip.  “Let’s do this.”  Junfa April’s grass tigers jumped inside the ring, and she gave him a wink.  Before Grant could protest, they were on him.

The night before, Grant had learned that Junfa April was very adept at tying up his sword with one whip, while using the other to pound him mercilessly.  This time, when her left-hand whip wrapped around his sword, Grant didn’t bother fighting.  He used the momentum of her tug to pull him forward, and he angled the blade to intercept the tiger flanking him to the right.  The moment before the tip of the sword pierced her trained animal, the yellow glow surrounding everyone flashed brightly, and they were held in place.

“Vinstri, you are done.  Get out of the circle.”  The Warden ordered the big cat to leave, then unfroze them.  The cat, apparently named Vinstri, looked at Grant like he was a rare steak laid out for him to eat.  Grant smiled at the grass tiger and reset for another attack, shaking off Junfa April’s whip from his sword.  “Good job, young warrior.  You adapted to the surprise, and used your opponent’s attack to improve your position.  Now, again.”  Grant shifted his shoulders before waving that he was ready, the heavier sword straining different muscles than his Uchigatana normally did.  “Go!”

This time, Junfa April aimed her left-hand whip at his ankle.  That was another thing she had done to Grant last night.  His back had been sore from the number of times she jerked him off his feet.  Since it was something Grant had seen before, he wasn’t surprised by her choice of opening moves.  He spun to the side, using Belladonna Dodge to get out of range.  Junfa April’s second whip came straight for his face, so Grant rolled forward under it.  The second grass tiger was waiting for him, and he was barely able to get his sluggish sword in position to keep it at bay.

“Rett, plan two!”  Junfa April shouted an order at her tiger, and it fell back.  Grant couldn’t keep an eye on what it was doing, because a flurry of whip strikes were aimed at his face.  He used a modified form of Peach Flower Petal Flurry to defend himself, since he couldn’t use Iaijutsu to boost his speed.  It was imperfect, and allowed a single whip to get past his borrowed sword.  The snapping sound it made against his chest made him flinch, but it wasn’t accompanied by the normal terrible sting he felt when hit by her.   The surprise froze him in place for a moment, and a whip wrapped around his sword again.  It was only a heartbeat later that his instincts told him to move, so he jumped to the right.  Directly into the leaping path of the second tiger.

“Oomph!”  Grant’s breath exploded from his chest, but the grass tiger didn’t end up much better.  Either by instinct or accident, the hilt of the sword had somehow smacked Rett in the side of the head.  The tiger hadn’t expected him to move, and it was out of position to use its devastating claws to good effect.  It ended up hugging Grant to the ground, where the yellow light flashed brightly once again.

“It was a good match, mate.  Let’s get you up, and-”  The Warden paused when he saw that Grant’s sword was angled across the tiger’s throat.  Junfa April’s whip had tugged on his blade, and he had used it like a fulcrum to position the sword where it would do the most damage.  “Oh.  Well, never mind then.  Rett, you’re done.  Get out of the ring.”  The tiger got up, shaking its head to clear it.  Both of them had eaten a hard impact.

“Good job, Grant.”  Junfa April brought her whips back to her side with a flick of her wrist.  “It’s just you and me now.  Let’s see how you do.”

“I’m ready when you are.”  Grant rolled his shoulders and rotated the sword in his grip.  “This is starting to get fun.”  And it honestly was.  Their fight had started to draw a crowd, and a fair number of spectators were cheering them on.  It was another stark reminder that he had never felt like he belonged anywhere before.  Until now.

“I guess it’s time to stop going easy on you!”  Junfa April gave Grant a quick grin before rolling her whips forward to snap at his face.  She was having fun too.

Now that Grant didn’t have to worry about a tiger pouncing on his back, he gave the strands of braided leather his full attention.  The two of them fell into a kind of rhythm, Grant not quite able to use his skills to their fullest without his Wielded Weapon, but Junfa April couldn’t do much damage due to his armor.  It made for a much more balanced fight than either of them had probably expected.  The crowd watching the two steadily grew, and slowly fell silent.  It looked to them like the Wielders were locked in some kind of dance, the cracking of whips keeping the beat to their unheard song.

“Okay you two, that’s enough.”  Grant and Junfa April were briefly surrounded by the yellow flash of light again.  “Time to let the others have a turn.”  His voice seemed to break the silence like a sheet of invisible glass, and the gathered crowd cheered.  Their leader had just fought with the Wielder who had saved several of their friends, and it had been a fight worth remembering.  To Grant, it felt more like his mind and body had found a new realm of understanding.  He had even forgotten that he wasn’t using his normal sword for a bit, and just flowed with the pace of the battle.  “Let Grant get a chance to rest before he has to fight April Twentieth.”

“Now that was a training session!”  Junfa April stepped out of the ring, and collected her weapons.  “Where were those skills last night?”

“I don’t know.  I was just more… whole?  I don’t know how to describe it.”  Grant picked up his Uchigatana.  “I think it might have been that I didn’t feel like it was all life-and-death.  This was… fun.”  Junfa April gave a sage nod and smiled.

“Well, that explains it.  When was the last time you fought or trained to have fun?”  Grant stared at her, dumbfounded.  Junfa April patted him on the shoulder.  “You haven’t, have you?”

“No.”  Grant shook his head.  “From the moment I picked up my sword, I have been fighting and training to stay alive.  There wasn’t time to have fun.”  He felt a thrum from his sword.

<That might be what’s been holding you back, and for that, I apologize.>  Sarge's tone was sincere.  It made Grant pause long enough to put his hand on his Uchigatana.

“Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t regret it, because I am still breathing.  I just haven’t had time to do things like have fun.”

“Well, it’s time to change that.  Grab yourself a drink and enjoy the fights!”  She slapped a mug of frothing liquid into his hand, then snatched it back.  “After your round, of course.”

Chapter 32

Grant walked over to sit with the other Wielders and Vassals waiting for their turn in the ring.  He was welcomed with open arms, and received congratulations on the proper showing he had given with his fight against Junfa April.  After getting a hefty amount of backslaps and high-fives, Grant found a place to sit down and think about what had happened.  Had he really been missing this part of being a warrior?  Was having fun the reason why so many people became warriors?

<Warriors are not focused on fun, Grant.  But they are still people, and people like to enjoy life.>  Sarge highlighted several of the Vassals standing around the training circle.  <Do you see all the smiles and laughter?  It’s because they are not here to fight to the death.  They are having fun, and improving their skills at the same time.>

“That’s what I’m going to do then.  I’m going to try and have fun.”  Grant concentrated on the idea of having fun, trying to psych himself up.

<I think this might be my fault.  Forcing yourself to have fun is the opposite of having fun.>  Sarge sighed in Grant’s mind.  <Just… try and let your instincts guide you, instead of thinking through everything.>

The first real match was between Taneglur and Reimaria.  As they got into the ring, it looked like a proper warrior was facing down a child.  Taneglur was clearly a Berserker cultivator, focused on Physical and Weapon cultivation.  Grant wasn’t sure, but Reimaria was a Weapon and Mental cultivator, making her another Spellblade.

<Your guess is a good one, I believe.  Reimaria modeled her own cultivation style after April Second.  A good choice for a Vassal.  Having a framework to build off of will certainly help to increase cultivation speed.>

“Do you think she has a chance of winning?”  It seemed impossible to Grant that she would even last long enough to make it past the first exchange of blows.  “She is less than half his size.”

<Is it possible?  Certainly.  A Spellsword against a Berserker is a pretty even matchup.  However, their size disparity means she has to be perfect.  A single mistake on her end would stop the fight.  Spellswords are about precision and controlling the battlefield, while a Berserker is about endurance and might.  It usually comes down to who can outlast whom.  Can the Spellsword wear down a Berserker, or will the Berserker keep going long enough for the Spellsword to make a mistake?  We will just have to see.>

Grant and Sarge fell silent as the match began.  The two Vassal’s touched maces, Taneglur’s two-handed monstrosity dwarfing Reimaria’s thin and spiky version.  They retreated to the edge of the circle before an unseen signal caused them to rush forward.  Both combatants seemed to blur forward, simultaneously activating a charge skill that must come from the powers imparted by April Second.

Reimaria came out the loser of the quick exchange, but not by much.  Taneglur had used a heavy downward swing due to him facing a smaller opponent.  The thin spikes on the head of her mace weren’t meant to deflect a heavy attack, so she had angled the shaft of the weapon to direct the larger mace head to the ground.  It impacted hard enough to make the ground shake, and it was obvious the vibrations hurt Taneglur’s hands.  Not as much as it had hurt Reimaria, though.

<She’s going to lose.>  Grant gave a silent nod of agreement.  <She will still give a good showing of herself.  Reimaria just doesn’t have the experience necessary to win.>

It turned out exactly as Sarge predicted.  The two Vassals fought back and forth, but the size and experience of Taneglur turned out to be the deciding factor.  After several minutes, the Warden finally called the fight.

“Good match, little one.”  Taneglur held out a fist for Reimaria to bump with her own.  “I need to watch myself, or soon the competition for Prime Vassal will be a hard contest to win.”

“Just give me a few month’s of practice, and we’ll see how this thing goes.”  Reimaria’s grin stretched from ear to ear.  “I almost had you in the beginning, I just put too much force into the deflection.”

“Ah, you only think that.”  Taneglur wrapped a heavy arm around Reimaria’s shoulders, and guided her over to a popup food stand.  “I was just testing you.  Don’t forget, I have feet.  A hard kick would have done you in, had you moved closer.”

“Ha!  That’s what you think!  All I needed to do was…”

Their banter faded away as the two moved away from Grant.  He stood up, rolling his shoulders and double-checking that his gear was positioned carefully.  He shifted his belt so his heavy storage bag rested against the small of his back, and he moved his sword around so it still sat on his left hip.

<See?  They fought, but they had fun while doing it.  No hard feelings, and no bloodshed.  Both left as compatriots, not combatants.>  Grant gave Sarge a distracted nod, but couldn’t answer before a caravaner walked into the center of the training ring.

“People of House Wednesday!  Our next training bout is between the always exciting April Twentieth, and the newest Wielder to our convoy, Grant!”  One of the Warden’s cultists was playing announcer, and he waved the two combatants into the ring.  “Now we will get to witness the fight between Wielders that are polar opposites.  One is a shield, and the other a sword.  Which is mightier?  Let’s find out!”

The Wielder that entered opposite Grant was smaller than he expected.  Considering Sokkur’s size, he thought the Wielder would have been all about Physical cultivation.  Instead, he faced a middle-aged balding man who was roughly the same size as himself, in a nice set of armor that was heaviest over his arms and legs.

<I think this is going to be an interesting fight.  He’s a Warrior cultivator.>  Grant opened his mouth to ask what kind of cultivator that was, but Sarge told him without Grant having to ask.  <It means he focused on Armor and Weapon cultivation.  He specializes on taking and dealing damage in equal measure.>

“How can he deal damage with a shield?”  Grant felt stupid for asking, because as soon as he got a good look at the shield, he had his answer.  “Ah, crabs.”

<That’s called a kite shield.  It has a sharp tip on the bottom, with - usually - a rounded top.  His shield is pointy on all sides though, like a big diamond.>  Sarge sounded genuinely happy.  <It makes him much more dangerous!>

“Let’s get it on!”

Grant had tuned out the announcer, but that part got through.  There was no friendly touching of weapons for their match.  He was immediately forced to dance backward to avoid a hard shield bash.  Even though the Wielder looked like a middle-aged man who should be working at a bank, he certainly didn’t move like one.

The fight quickly accelerated.  Grant used Iaijutsu to slam his sword into the shield being shoved at his face, and April Twentieth used the edge of his shield to deflect Grant’s Uchigatana to the side.  Which is when Grant noticed that the entire edge of the shield was sharpened.

<I wouldn’t recommend letting him hit you with that edge.  It looks pretty sharp.>  Grant gave a grunt of agreement as he used the hilt of his sword to slam the Shieldbearer back.  April Twentieth recovered too fast for Grant to capitalize on the opening he had created, and he was quickly dancing backward again.  Even though the shield was only the size of a breastplate, its owner certainly made it seem larger.  <He is highly skilled.  You need to start using your named skills, or you are going to lose.>

He couldn’t resheathe his sword to use Iaijutsu for his flurry skill, so Grant waited for another heavy shield bash.  As soon as the shield rushed forward, Grant used Hemlock’s Bane.  He parried the bash by laying his blade horizontally along the shield, and pushing off with the guard of his blade against the sharpened point of the kite.  He spun himself hard, and chopped down on the armored heel of April Twentieth.  The hard impact of metal on metal made a gong sound, and Grant felt the armor flex against the edge of his blade.  It didn’t penetrate, but as he rolled back to avoid a swipe from the sharpened shield, Grant saw April Twentieth take a limping step to the side.

<You bruised him with that blow.  Considering the Warden didn’t stop the fight, he must know how strong April Twentieth has cultivated for Armor.>  Grant sprang back to his feet, and was surprised that he didn’t already have a shield in his face.  <Try and do that again, but on the other foot.  I think he will forfeit if he can’t move well.>

The next series of strikes between the two was less measured and more instinctual.  April Twentieth finally seemed to let loose, and the ringing blow from a punch to the side of Grant’s head was the silent signal that neither of them were holding back.  It was Grant’s turn to stumble, but he didn’t get the same few seconds of a breather he had given the Warrior cultivator.  Liberal use of his Belladonna Dodge ability was the only thing that kept the Warden from calling the fight.

<You forgot he has a fist.  He also has feet, knees, and elbows.>  Grant crouched a little lower, lifting his sword in a firmer block diagonally across his body once he had some extra space between them.  <There you go.>

Things sped up then.  Grant drew forward to his left, bringing his sword on line to cut beneath the bottom edge of the shield.  April Twentieth trusted the armor on his forearm to block it, and went for a cut of his own across Grant’s face with his surprisingly versatile shield.  It forced Grant to drop lower, and he pushed the flat of his blade against the edge of the kite.  He was now under the shield in a crouch, with April Twentieth leaning forward over the top of him.

Abandoning the more regular moves of a duel, Grant grabbed the Shieldbearer by the heel of his armored sabaton and lifted with a hard flex of his legs and back.  April Twentieth’s head replaced his feet in a nasty flip, and he landed painfully on his neck.

Grant didn’t come away from it cleanly.  Somehow, his skilled opponent had managed to kick him in the throat.  He fell back choking, unable to capitalize on his momentary victory.  Both combatants gathered themselves on opposite sides of the ring.  April Twentieth gave Grant a small nod of respect, and he returned it.

They sprinted at one another, Grant dropping to one knee at the last second and thrusting his sword forward under the edge of the shield.  In response, April Twentieth activated a skill that made the center of his shield glow with a green light.  Grant’s Uchigatana was pulled at the light as if the tip of it had been yanked there by an invisible rope.  His sword tip slammed against the shield hard enough that both of the cultivators had to take a step back to recover.

Dao Seed of Change activated!

Through your hard work and dedication, you have acquired a new skill!

Change is Growth

Skill gained: Oleander Thrust (1/2). Fighting means you need to reach out and touch your enemy.  This skill allows you to rush forward and greet them with the violence they deserve.  You have shown initial mastery! Congratulations!

Tier one effect: When you perform a perfect forward thrust, your armor penetration is 10% more effective.  *Bonus*  Your forward speed is increased by 10% when using this skill.

<Finally!>  Sarge’s voice thundered in Grant’s head, causing him to miss out on the opportunity to gain the initiative against April Twentieth.  <It took you long enough.  I think his shield has some kind of attraction ability that he used to stop you from avoiding his block, but that was still a perfect thrust.  You now have a full set of skills to chain together.  Time to show these people what Earl Spring can do.>

Grant couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.  April Twentieth saw it, and stopped his approach.  He could clearly sense that something had changed.  Not willing to let Grant see that he was intimidated, April Twentieth returned Grant’s smile.

“This is far more interesting than I thought it was going to be.”  The Warrior cultivator dropped his shoulder and presented his shield to Grant.  “Let’s do this.”

What happened next was a blur to everyone but the most advanced fighters in the caravan.  Grant used his new thrust skill to close the distance, and April Twentieth repeated his shield skill to ensure he couldn’t get past his defenses.  After the hard impact, Grant went straight into his flurry skill, using the ten percent speed boost to simulate his Iaijutsu skill which allowed him to actually perform the ability.  The shield of April Twentieth seemed to always get in the way just in time, until Grant halted his assault to perform a spin move that his parry ability told him to do.  He used his chop skill to slam the edge of his Uchigatana against the trailing calf of the Shieldbearer as he tried to move to the side.

Grant’s sword was out of position, so April Twentieth swung a hard fist at Grant’s unprotected face.  Grant used his dodge ability to roll backward, and sprang to his feet, ready to thrust forward once again.  This time, April Twentieth’s shield was turned the wrong direction to use his attraction ability, and Grant’s sword tip was unobstructed as it rushed at the Shieldbearer’s throat.

“Armor Gravity Smash!”  The shield flashed a bright green with April Twentieth’s shout, and Grant was slammed to the ground as the metal in his armor seemed to get twenty times heavier in the blink of an eye.  Both Grant and April Twentieth were coated in a bright yellow light, and Grant’s armor returned to normal.

“Fight’s over.  April Twentieth used a spell, and forfeited the match.”  The Warden stepped into the ring to help Grant to his feet.  “Good job, mate.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, most of them chanting Grant’s name.  He sheathed his sword, and April Twentieth walked over to thump his back in congratulation.  Both of them were grinning.  Grant had definitely had fun.  And right before the Warden had stopped the fight, he had gotten one last upgrade.

Chapter 33

“Sorry about that, mate.”  April Twentieth and Grant were sitting next to each other on the dropped tailgate of a wagon positioned to look over the fights.  “I just got into a rhythm, and forgot we were fighting in the ring.  It’s hard to not use all your skills when you face a worthy opponent.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand.”  Grant took a drink from the wineskin he had passed over.  “Once you get into the full swing of battle, it’s hard to hold back.”

“I’m just impressed that you were able to get me to that point.”  April Twentieth pointed to where Apil Second was speaking to his Vassals.  “He can do it, and of course Junfa April, but that’s about it.”

“Well, I definitely enjoyed myself.”  Grant handed the wineskin back.  “I was able to use a full set of skills against someone without holding back, and it felt… good.”

“That’s the warrior spirit talking.”  April Twentieth stood up and shook Grant’s hand once again.  “We should do this again sometime.”

“Sure!  Especially if I get to keep winning.”  Grant gave him a grin, and the Shieldbearer shook his head in chagrin before walking away.  Once he was alone, Grant looked at the new upgrades.

Strength is Power

Cultivation Level increased to 28

Name: Grant Monday (Options: Grant Monday, Earl Spring)

Rank: Earl Spring  (Lord of The Month for January, February, and March)

Class: Foundation Cultivator

Cultivation Achievement Level: 28

Cultivation Stage: Mid Autumn

Inherent Abilities: Swirling Seasons Cultivation

Health: 766/766

Mana: 33/33

Physical: 477

Mental: 132

Armor Proficiency: 223

Weapon Proficiency: 241

Skills:

Kenjutsu (3/10)

Skill tier 1: All damage dealt when wielding a sword is increased by 10%.

Skill tier 2: Your sword will never betray you. When a sword is wielded by you, the blade will always land exactly where you intend.

Skill tier 3: When intending to deal lethal damage, there is a 20% chance that any attack with a sword on a non-critical area will result in critical damage.

<That’s a solid increase in your combat abilities.  Your damage is now up to one hundred and thirty six, so if you add on your ten percent increase from using skills, you can do one hundred and fifty damage.  Not quite on par with the other Wielders, but you are closing in on what most Vassals can probably do.  The weaker ones, at least.>  Sarge seemed happy with the increases, so Grant didn’t bother trying to explain how he had managed to insult him with the compliment.  <Also, it’s good you didn’t take his Wielded Weapon ability when you won.  That would have drawn too much attention.>

“Not only that, I would have weakened the convoy, which is something I would never do.  Speaking of weapon abilities, do you think it’s time to use the ability I got from Dokeshi March?”  Grant was looking over the rest of his skills, and the sword ability stuck out as a tool he wasn’t using effectively.  “Now that I have all of the necessary skills to fight here, I can concentrate on self-improvement again.”

<Yes, but you need to word it carefully.>  Sarge’s tone was as serious as Grant had ever heard it.  <The ability from March is all carrot, no stick.  The only reward for completing the deal is the absence of pain.  Don’t make a deal with yourself that will end with you hating your life.>

“Well, what about something less about my physical training, and more about my mental learning?”  Grant was well-aware that his mental cultivation was trailing behind the others.  “Maybe I could make a deal to meditate every day.”

<That isn’t sustainable.  How many days have you had in the last three months that require you to keep going non-stop?>  Grant paused to think about it, remembering runs through sewers, forests filled with spiders, insane track meets, mad dashes through dilapidated buildings, and underground monster den battles.

“A few times, I guess.”  Grant threw that idea to the side, and then had a genuine epiphany.  “What if I make a deal that says I have to learn something new every day?  Even on the days where I had to keep going, I at least learned valuable life lessons.  Like, how spiders are the true instrument of evil cast into the universe with the intention to destroy all life.”

<Well, I don’t see a way to argue that point.>  Sarge could certainly see why Grant would think such a thing.  It could have even been correct.  <I can’t think of a reason why that wouldn’t work, and it will certainly help you go further in your mental cultivation.  However, I think you should still have some form of physical aspect to the deal.>

“Okay, then how about I include at least four hours of strenuous physical activity for every day as a minimum?”  Grant couldn’t think of a single day that hadn’t happened since he had picked up his Uchigatana.  “That should be easy enough.”

<And what do you want to use for the punishment?>  Sarge had several fun ideas, but he would listen to what Grant had to say first.

“Simple.  I have a headache that just gets worse and worse until I meet both requirements.”  Grant felt sure it would be an easy way to help him advance, and he could use the headache as a warning to remind him to keep up with his cultivation.

<That’s probably a good idea.>  Sarge thought it was a pretty light punishment, but with Grant having a skill that increased his pain sensations, it could turn out poorly if they made it more stringent.  <I think it’s a good plan.>

“Alright.  Let’s do this.”  Grant unsheathed his sword, and accessed the sword ability.  He read the full description over one last time before actually making the deal with himself.

Mind over Matter: Set a binding rule, as well as the punishment for breaking that rule. The harsher the requirements of the rule, the harsher the punishment may be.

If you are the only target of the rule, you may make any rule and any punishment for breaking it.

If you and another entity are bound by the same rule, the punishment for breaking the rule must be mutually agreed upon for maximum effect, else the punishment will be halved for the unwilling target.

If another entity is the only target of the rule, the punishment for breaking the rule can only be pain. If the rule is deemed to be predatory, there is an 80% chance of backlash upon the Wielder making the rule.

Grant was still in a public setting, so he walked away from the caravan a bit before actually speaking the rule for himself out loud.  Once he was alone, Grant unsheathed his sword and held it up in front of himself.

“I, Grant Monday, Earl Spring, make the following rule.”  The sword flashed, and emitted a low silver light.  “I must learn something new before every sunset, and I must perform four hours of physical activity every twenty-four hours.”  Grant felt a pressure settle on his mind, but the glow only grew brighter.  He waited for the feeling to abate, but it only seemed to get worse.

<Set the punishment, or you are going to fry your brain.>

“Oh, right.”  Grant thought he could smell burnt toast, which was distracting, but he was able to finish before any damage was done.  “My punishment will be a headache that only grows worse until I complete the daily tasks.”  The pressure released, and Grant sighed in relief as the silver glow went away.  What didn’t go away was the burning smell.  “Did I cook something in my own brain?”

<No, I think there is actually something burning.>  Grant looked around, and saw a small fire that was quickly spreading near the outside edge of the ring of wagons.  There was no one around but him.  <You should probably put that out.>

Grant rushed over and stomped on the spreading grass fire, trying to keep it from getting out of control.  It was quickly extinguished, and he looked around to try and see what could have caused it.  There wasn’t anyone cooking, or even standing guard in the area.  A single lookout was posted on top of a nearby wagon, but they were spending most of their time looking back inside the ring of wagons to try and watch the fights.

“That’s really weird.  How did this fire even start?”  Grant couldn’t figure out where the origin point of the fire was, especially since it seemed like the fire had started out as a long line that ran a short arc around the curve of the circle of wagons.  The only clue was the distinct smell of burnt toast, and a few shards of broken glass.  Their current campsite was another of the frequently-used places along the route, so they could have come from a past wagon train, or even this one.  “It almost looks like someone was walking around the edge of the wagons, dragging a toast-scented torch through the grass behind them.”

<Well, that would be crazy.>

“Yeah, who would try to burn down the wagons?”  Grant thought for a moment about the House Saturday scouts that were still in the area, but quickly dismissed the idea.  They would have seen them sneaking up before now, considering the lack of cover.  Even a camouflage wagon would be easily spotted.

<Not that.  Who would use toast as a torch?>

“My life is weird.”

<No argument from me.  I can’t believe I just had to say that out loud.>

Chapter 34

The next week was filled with Grant doing his best to keep his deal with himself by doing things that mattered.  He went on patrols to add to his storage bag, and talked with as many of the more experienced Wielder’s and Vassals as he could.  There was constant talk of how surprised everyone was at the larger numbers of beasts they were having to fight.  Something seemed to be stirring them up, but no one wanted to talk about what it might mean for the future.  Either way, it was good for Grant.  His storage pouch continued to get closer to being filled, and he was even able to reach level thirty.

After the showing he gave during the training matches, he was even invited to the nightly ‘capture battles’, where they would pit whatever small monsters they could find against one another for entertainment.  On his first day, Grant had managed to get a scorpion that he found by accident when it attacked him when he sat down and tried to eat his lunch.  It was about the size of his foot, and Grant was sure the scorpion would put him quickly into the good graces of the other guards with a win.  His scorpion lost to a handful of oversized ants brought by the archer Wielder, April Tenth.  The old man pulled him aside after the match to give him some advice.

“Mate, there is a lesson here for you.”  The dry voice of the old man was still clear and powerful, demanding Grant’s full attention.  “Many smaller and weaker opponents can bring down one that is more powerful.  That is how many of the more selfish Wielders found their end when the beasts started coming through the barriers.  They underestimated the power of regular people in large groups, and it ended with new leadership in most of the Noble Houses.”

“Thank you for the lesson.”  Grant actually knew this one already, considering the time he was almost eaten alive by a swarm of rats in District March.  That didn’t make it a bad reminder.  “Are there any other tactics you could teach me?”

And that started the tactics and techniques training for Grant.  He was quickly included in planning meetings, and the archer made sure to seek him out at the end of every day to discuss how to lead a small group, a medium-sized group, and even a full army.  Sarge approved of his lessons, and only had a few critiques.  Both the sword spirit and April Tenth must have seen a whole lot of battles, because Sarge’s comments were extremely technical.  Grant couldn’t see much difference between what each had to say, beyond differences in opinion.  All of the lessons certainly met the requirements for Grant to learn something new every day.

His hardest lessons didn’t come from any of that.  The dubious honor of most difficult trainer came from Junfa April herself.  When Grant wasn’t out on patrol, getting lessons from her took up the rest of his time.  On his fourth day of training, she had him standing on top of the water wagon, balancing on the curve of the giant barrel on one foot while it trundled through the plains.  His assignment was to hold his Uchigatana in front of his face, and concentrate on the way the blade cut through the air.  Focusing on the idea of sharpness was what he was supposed to be doing, but such an esoteric mission was still a bit much for Grant to truly understand.  Sarge had done his best to help.

<What Junfa April is trying to do, is force another epiphany moment from you.>  Grant shifted to his other foot, his right leg tired enough that it was starting to get shaky.  <By understanding that your blade separates things from one another at their most base components, it can help you better understand how to use the intent of your weapon.>

“The intent of my weapon?”  Grant certainly knew what the intent of his weapon was.  Sarge had expressed on multiple occasions that he wanted to work Grant until he was ready to pass out.  “You tell me your intentions all the time.”

<No, not the spirit inside the blade.  The actual sharpened metal that makes up the sword.  Any sword, really.  It’s intent is to cut through whatever stands in the way.>

“So, its intent is exactly what it was made for?”  Grant clearly didn’t understand how this was even training.

<Well, yes… but no.>  Sarge sighed inside his mind.  <Okay.  I can see how this might be difficult.>  The sword spirit thought about the possible options they had available.  He couldn’t think of anything.  <Just keep doing what she told you to do, and closely observe the way your sword interacts with everything around it.>

“Okay, but I still think this is silly.”  Grant was just lucky his other lessons counted for his deal to learn something new every day.

After his lessons on tactics, Junfa April would then pull Grant aside for more physical training.  Her twin whips made for a hard match against his single sword, but it did give him a chance to get a little armor cultivation.  It was good practice for him, and he saw quick improvement at blending his new skills together.  Not that it helped him win, of course.

Taking multiple whippings from Junfa April had Grant a bit jumpy every time he heard a cracking sound, so April Second would occasionally spar with him as well.  Grant fared much better against the mace Wielder, considering his usual opponents had been armed similarly to himself.  He even won another training circle match against April Tenth on the seventh day.  It was more of a showing of techniques, with Grant managing to deflect all of the arrows April Tenth sent his way.  His training in District March made it possible, even if the Wielder’s arrows were much faster than the things Dokeshi March’s Vassals had thrown at him.

“I yield, mate.”  April Tenth waved a sun-spotted hand at Grant before he could close the distance between the two of them.  “I’m entirely too old to be fighting with young Wielders like yourself.”

<If magic and deadly skills were allowed, you would have lost almost immediately.  You don’t get to be his age as a warrior without having a few tricks up your sleeve.>  Grant silently agreed with Sarge, and dismissed the notification that would allow him to absorb the archer’s weapon power.

“Thank you for sparring with me.”  Grant gave the old man a bow, along with a look that let the Wielder know Grant was aware he had gone easy on him.  Grant would still take the win, though.  “I have learned much from you this week.”

“We all have roles to fill, young man.  It’s the job of the old to teach the young.  Although, I was impressed with your ability to deflect so many arrows.”  April Tenth brushed his hands over his depleted quiver as they walked out of the circle of stones, so the next match could get started.  It was already getting dark, and there were still several pairs of warriors ready to practice their skills.  “Have you been practicing with Skor?”

“No, his skills didn’t come from me.”  Skor walked up and handed each of them a waterskin as April Tenth sat down on the dropped tailgate of a nearby wagon.  Grant took a drink and stepped to the side to do some stretches.  All the quick movements required from their match had him feeling stiff.  Skor took his waterskin back and sat down next to his Wielder.  “Those abilities were a surprise to me as well.”

“It’s from my time in District March.”  Grant tapped his sword hilt, about to start bragging about his exploits, when a flash of movement from outside the ring of wagons interrupted his train of thought.  “Wait, what was that?”  The smell of burning toast wafted to his nose, and Grant’s eyes widened in alarm.  Somehow, it smelled much stronger than the last time.  “It’s back!”  He turned to look at April Tenth and Skor.  “The smell, it’s here again!”  Seeing only looks of confusion, Grant pointed outside the ring of wagons.  “Fire!  There’s going to be a fire!  Someone is burning a lot of toast!”

While Grant might not have made much sense, the threat of a fire was enough to spur action from everyone within earshot.  It ended up being just enough to save them all.

“Anti-Flame Fanatics, on me!”  The Warden appeared by Grant as if by magic, and he immediately started directing his followers.  “The water wagon is as useless as a third armpit sitting on the other side of the circle, so get it over here.  You three, do what you can until it gets here.  Work the sides, and keep it from surrounding us.  I’m going to stand between it and the wagons to buy us time!”

There wasn’t even a hint of fire yet, but everyone instantly acted like there was.  The faith they showed in Grant made him almost choke up with unfamiliar feelings, and he was reminded once more that he felt like this was the place he belonged.

“Get the animals hitched up.”  Junfa April came running from the opposite side of the wagon circle, where the water wagon was located.  She had been getting it hooked up to the Meatballs by herself, until the cultists had shown up.  “They won’t be happy about it, but we don’t have a choice.  We can’t stay here.”

“You believe me?”  There still wasn’t a single sign of smoke, but everyone was acting like the fire was moving like the fire was only minutes away.  Grant didn’t know how to react.  “What if I’m wrong?”

“I can smell it too, Grant.  You aren’t wrong.”  April Tenth finished whispering something in Skor’s ear, and the man took off like one of Junfa April’s tigers was chasing him.  “I recognize it.  The mixture of two chemicals that slowly heat up until they burst into flames.  They tend to smell like burnt bread before they ignite.”  He patted Grant on the shoulder.  “You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much.”

“Grant, can you help with the Meatballs?  They seem to like you, and the stubborn creatures don’t want to get hooked back to the same wagons they have been pulling all day without rest.”  Junfa April shouted more orders to the swarm of Vassals churning behind her before turning back to Grant.  “Now, please.”

The frantic activity only picked up as Grant ran to comply.  The Meatballs weren’t exactly happy to see Grant, but at least he was able to get them calm enough to get hitched back to their wagons.  Since the majority of the animals that pulled the wagons were Prairie Pullers, he spent most of the time dodging their kicks and bites.  Those things really didn’t like him.

Before they could finish, the flames finally erupted from the chemical mixture around them.  Grant had just got done checking the Meatballs hooked up to one of the supply wagons when the temperature around him spiked.

“Them motherless dogs surrounded us with it!”  The person shouting was Skor’s brother, Stigvel, who was steering his own wagon past Grant.  “We’re gonna have to make a run for it!”

They did exactly that.  Grant hopped up on his wagon, and they galloped toward the place where the water wagon was hosing down the thickest flames.  Ironically, the place where they had expected the fire to start was the safest place to go.  The full circle around them was closest to that point, which made sense considering it was where the smell had been strongest.  The unfortunate side-effect was that the majority of the wagons had been headed away from that point, and they were now in danger of being overwhelmed by the flames steadily encroaching from the encirclement.

“Don’t stop!  We need to make a path!”  It was hard to shout over the sounds of people shouting, animals screaming in fear, and the crackling roar of the flames.  Grant could see in his mind’s eye what would happen if someone didn’t show the others an escape path.  “We can make it!”

Stigvel didn’t bother trying to reply.  Instead, he aimed the wagon to pass between a pair of the cultists using the water from the giant barrel to dampen the intensity of the fire.  They rumbled through the space, flames licking against the sides of the wagon and singeing the fur of the Prairie Pullers.  For a moment, Grant was afraid they weren’t going to make it.  Then, the cool night air slammed into them like a wave of pure relief.

“Looks like we made it, mate.”  Stigvel pointed the wagon toward the far horizon, and let the scared animals have their head.  “The others should follow quickly behind.”

Grant looked back, and saw he was right.  The path they had made through the grassfire was already being reinforced by the Anti Flame Fanatics, and no one had to tell the other wagon drivers which way to go.  You didn’t live long in District April if you were that dumb.  Surprisingly, the first vehicle through the gap in the burning ring of fire besides themselves was Skor, with the rest of Team Three riding in the scout chariot beside him.  Grant and Stigvel watched silently as they quickly caught up to them.  They slowed down to a more sedate pace, making it possible for them to talk to one another.

“Good to see you made it out, brother.”  Skor pointed to a spot in the distance where a rocky outcropping thrust out of the flat plains.  “Keep going slow until the usual lead wagons catch up, and then aim for those rocks.  That’s going to be the new campsite location.”  Stigvel gave Skor a subtle wave of his hand, showing that he understood.  Then Skor looked at Grant.  “You need to hop on with us.  We have a mission from April Tenth.”

“What’s the mission?”  Grant was expecting them to range forward to make sure the campsite was safe, or maybe help put out the flames.  That wasn’t the answer he got.

“We are going to track down the person responsible for this.”  Skor looked back to the trail of smoking wagons and burning grasslands, his eyes flashing with murderous rage.  They wouldn’t know how bad the tally of injuries and destruction was until after everyone was settled down and the fires were put out.  “This was an attack, made with the intent to kill.  It’s time for the gloves to come off.”

Chapter 35

Team Three made good time running through the night.  Skor had held up a cluster of the grass that smelled like burnt toast in front of their oversized Saunterling’s nose, and let the creature lead them over the plains.  It had quickly caught the scent of whoever had set the fires, only requiring a quick circle around the flames still raging around their former campsite.  They hadn’t stopped following them ever since.  None of them had any idea how far the culprit had gotten, but it was quickly obvious they knew they were being followed once the sun started to lighten the night sky.

“If we have to double back one more time, I think we might have to give up.”  Sokkur had been singed by the flames during the escape, and his shield arm was heavily blistered.  A salve provided by Skor hadn’t helped much.  “They appear to be a very crafty saboteur.”

“There is no doubling back on this one.”  Skor fingered a cluster of signal arrows that were in a quiver mounted to the front of the chariot.  “We aren’t giving up until we know for sure who did this.”

“We all know it was that House Saturday group.”  Reimaria had been silent most of the ride.  If Skor was a cold ice chip contemplating murder, she was the burning ember trying their best not to burst into a hot inferno of rage.  “It was as clear a message of war as I have ever seen.  Trying to kill a whole convoy while they bed down for the night?  There is only one way to handle someone like that.”

“You don’t know the horrors brought about by war, young Vassal.”  Skor handed another small tin of ointment to Sokkur from his pouch.  “We aren’t going to kill them without knowing if this is a rogue element, or if this group had orders to do it.”

“What if they lie?  There is no way to know if they are telling the truth.”  Reimaria was doing her best to keep her anger under control, but it was a close-run thing.  “We can’t let this go unanswered.”

“I didn’t say we would let them go unscathed.”  Skor’s tone brooked no argument.  “They will answer for their actions, but outright war with another House is the absolute last resort.”

“None of that matters if we can’t find them.”  Grant’s statement brought the argument to a close.  It was impossible to argue against that point.  “We have to be getting close.  The number of times they have doubled back has been ramping up, which means they are getting desperate.”

<They must be unpracticed with being an assassin.  No House Saturday worth their salt would allow someone to follow them this long.>  Grant was suddenly concerned about them running straight into a trap, but Sarge stopped his worrying.  <I think you have the wrong idea when it comes to House Saturday.  The overwhelming majority of them are truly alchemists.  Only a small portion of their House are actually assassins.  This feels more like one of their number is playing at assassin, instead of being properly trained.  Or maybe they failed out of their course, but still learned some skills.  It’s possible this District doesn’t even have an assassin training program anymore, because it was overrun during the initial surge through the barrier.>

“We might be going about this the wrong way, guys.”  Grant was pretty sure Sarge must be right.  The assassins he had already dealt with were much more capable than this person.  He had an idea, but it would only work if the person was as poorly trained as he was thinking.  “I think we need to split up.”

“Why would we split up?  We are getting close!”  Sokkur was massaging the ointment into his burned arm, and it was clear he was in pain and upset.  “If we are about to face an assassin Wielder, we will need your help to take them down.”

“That’s just it.  I don’t think this is a real assassin.”  Grant looked to Skor, who had obviously dealt with one in the past.  “We should have never gotten this close to them without at least running into a single trap.  The fact we are even closing in with them means they aren’t a very good one, at least.”  Grant pointed out into the chest-high grass surrounding them.  “We are probably close enough that they can at least see us closing in.  If we corner them, who’s to say they won’t just set fire to everything again in desperation?”  Reimaria opened her mouth again to argue, but slowly closed it instead.  Grant had a good point.

“So, you are saying they aren’t as dangerous as we’re expecting, and by cornering them like a rat, we face a repeat of what just went on.”  Skor drummed his fingers on the raised lip of the chariot.  “Okay, I can see what you are saying.  What’s your idea?”

“The next time we have to double back on a false trail, you guys keep going.  I will double back on my own, and stay low so they can’t see me.  That’s probably what they are doing anyway.”  Grant looked out over the plains.  “Staying crouched this whole time under the height of the grass has to mean their legs and back are tired.  Once they see you following the false trail, they will either stand up and give themselves away, or stop for a rest.  That’s when I will move in and hold them until you guys show up and we get some answers.”

“It’s a good plan.”  Skor held up a green signal arrow from the quiver in front of him.  “I only see two things wrong with it.  How will you signal us without a bow, and what if there is more than one of them?”

“There has to be just one.  Maybe there were more when they set the fire, but there is just one now.  Otherwise, they would have split up to distract us a long time ago.  As for the second question…”  Grant tapped his sword hilt.  “Do you remember how I stopped that wave of Greenlock from killing everyone?  I have a different way to signal you.”

“Fair enough.”  Skor put the arrow back in the quiver and flicked the reins.  “There are a dozen other ways this could go wrong, but I can’t think of a faster way to get this done.  We’ll try it.  Considering they might be in earshot at the next backtrack point, we will have to do this silently.”  Everyone gave a quiet grumble of agreement.

It was obvious to Grant that none of Team Three was excited about the plan.  Sokkur, especially, wore his emotions on his face.  The thought of ending the chase quickly warred with concern for risking his friend.  This was Grant’s choice though, so there wasn’t much he could say to change his mind.

They let the Saunterling follow the trail for another ten minutes or so, when it slowed down.  That meant it had lost the scent again.  Skor gave Grant a slight nod and he quietly rolled out of the back of the wagon.  Sokkur propped his shield in the place where Grant had been sitting on the back beside him in an attempt to replace his silhouette.  It wouldn’t stand up to heavy scrutiny, but it was better than nothing.

<Okay, I think I might have seen the break in the trail where they doubled back a few minutes behind us.  They didn’t have time to backtrack much.>  Grant crouched low, his overweight storage pouch making the hunched position more difficult than he expected.  <I have to admit, that pouch has been great for your physical training.  Every day is leg day!>

“I’m glad at least one of us is happy about it.”  Grant made sure to mutter his complaint.  There was no telling if he was in earshot of his target.  “This is going to suck.”

<Oh, I’m sure it will.  Now move.  Your prey is near, so get to hunting!>

Grant didn’t have far to walk before he found the faint trail that ran perpendicular to the one marked by Team Three’s chariot wheels.  It had been impossible to see while it was still dark and they were moving so quickly, but now that Grant was on foot he could clearly make out the occasional footprint or broken stalks of grass that were visible in the early morning light.

While it wasn’t as easy as following a scent, Grant was able to keep the trail in sight easily.  There was another branch in the path after thirty minutes of walking, so Grant picked the one where the stalks of grass had been given less time to recover from being stepped on.  The grass that was more pushed-down had been squished sooner, meaning it was the fresher trail.

<Stop.>  Grant immediately did as his sword instructed.  He had quietly been worried about stepping on a boobytrap meant to stop a chariot.  In just his armor, such a device would do far more damage than if he had been on the back of the wood and metal vehicle.  <Don’t worry, it isn’t a boobytrap.  I can sense the power from a Wielded Weapon ahead.  They are stationary at the moment.  You caught them.>

The urge to stand up straight and alleviate the burning ache in his legs and back was strong, but Grant knew it would be a mistake.  The House Saturday Wielder must have seen the chariot continue forward, and they had finally risked stopping to take a break.  Instead of resting his own legs, Grant crouched even lower.  He focused on moving forward slowly, and not giving away his position.  The protests from his legs went from quiet moans to outright screams and he silently cursed at his Bodily Awareness skill.

<They are less than twenty feet in front of you.  I think it would be best for you to sit and recover for a moment before rushing in to confront them.>  Grant heartily agreed with Sarge, and plopped down as quietly as he could manage onto his butt.  <I am only sensing one Weapon, but there could be someone there who isn’t a Vassal or Wielder.  You should make your entrance with the signal, just in case.>

While he was waiting, Grant noticed a sour smell coming from up ahead.  That meant the House Saturday Wielder was making something.  Considering the variety of Wielded Weapons that could be found in a House that specialized in alchemy instead of outright combat, Grant was immediately confronted with the fact that he had no idea what he could be facing.  There was nothing for it.  Grant slowly stood, holding in the groan that tried to escape.  He couldn’t give them any more time to cook up more surprises.

“Thundering Step!”  Grant unsheathed his blade and leapt with all of his might, directing his lightning upward in as narrow of a cone as he could manage to signal his friends.  It erupted from his sword with a crackling explosion, and he slammed it down in front of him as he landed.  The tail end of the technique shot forward to the figure hunched over a small pot they were stirring over a tiny fire, blasting the iron cookware several feet away.  The look of shock on their face was short-lived, but the one on Grant’s wasn’t.

“So, you finally caught me.”  The appearance of the speaker was what made Grant so surprised.  He was about to fight… Suki?