Junfa April: Chapters 41-45 (Patreon)

Chapter 41

“So, House Saturday wants the position of Junfa so they can unite the clans and fight the Miniature Giant Ice Wraith?”  Junfa April seemed to be somewhat skeptical, given her tone.  “Which, they claim, has left the north, and is stirring up trouble all across the plains?”

“That’s about right, Junfa.”  Skor was still nursing the leg he had injured earlier, massaging it as they talked.  “It is April Third’s goal to bring it down, and usher in a new era for the District.  Or, that’s what the girl says, anyway.”

“I’m genuinely surprised by the power play.  I thought that House had learned its lesson a few decades ago.”  Junfa April rolled the spoon from April Thirteenth across her knuckles before standing up and shouting for one of her whip-wielding Vassals to come over to their impromptu meeting.  “Hey, get the House Saturday girl and bring her over here.  I have some questions.”

Grant remained silent while they ran off to get April Thirteenth.  He couldn’t help but question whether or not Junfa April was wrong this time.  He had seen the hint of genuine fear in the failed assassin’s eyes.  Even if it wasn’t true that the Ice Wraith was running free across the plains, the people of House Saturday still believed it.  And considering the recent surge in beast activity, it left a kernel of doubt in Grant’s mind.

<It is harder for you to make an informed decision, because you don’t know the patterns of the beasts in this District.  Perhaps… the smaller convoy of House Saturday is better at seeing the fluctuations of beast activity than the largest wagon train of House Wednesday.>

“So, what you are saying is that I should listen to the failed assassin?”  Grant was very confused.  “You think she is right?”

<No, what I am saying is, you are on your way to the Conclave, where all the Houses will be represented.  You should listen in on what they have to say about everything.  Not that this matters very much to you.>  Sarge waited a few moments for the thought to sink in.  <You will be leaving District April right after the Conclave, so whoever you appoint as your stand-in will have to deal with it.>

“That’s true.”  Grant looked over at Junfa April, the only person who had ever fought the Ice Wraith and survived to tell the tale.  “I will need to make sure to have some plans in place before I leave for May.”

<First, you have to win the competition.  Focus on that.>  As if Sarge was some kind of extremely deadly prophet, a runner appeared, dragging Grant’s storage bag behind them.  <That should help you along.>

“Thank you.”  Grant took the storage bag from the runner, who was too winded from dragging the heavy object to say anything.  “Wow.  This thing is almost full.”  Grant hefted it onto his belt, and his knees strained to keep him upright as he fastened it to himself.  “I’ve got to get used to this increased weight again.”

<It’s good training.>  Sarge highlighted a section of the ground next to the chariot.  <But for right now, you should rest.  Your health isn’t recovered, and that was a lot of fighting.>

Not wanting to argue with the gift of a few minutes of rest, Grant flopped back down on the ground and observed as April Thirteenth was brought to see Junfa April.  She dragged the tied-up Wielder out of earshot, and Grant could see April Thirteenth visibly wilt under the glare of Junfa April.  Apparently, being faced with the leader of an entire group of people you tried to burn made you lose all the noble bearing held tenuously in your grasp.

“What do you think she is going to ask her?”  Sokkur scooted closer to Grant, his eyes fixed on the surprisingly non-violent interrogation taking place in front of them.  “And do you think it’s true what House Saturday said, that the Ice Wraith is wandering the plains again?”

“I don’t know about the Ice Wraith, but I’m pretty sure she is going to find out everything House Saturday has planned.”  Grant shifted to make himself more comfortable, and had to fight to keep his eyes open.  Sokkur yawned heavily, also suffering from the side effects of exhaustion from such a long fight.  “I certainly don’t envy her, that’s for sure.”

“Enough talk.  Sleep while you can.”  Skor was checking over their Saunterling, and moved his chin toward Reimaria, who had fallen asleep in the back of the chariot at some point.  “I will wake you when it’s time to leave.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep, after all that excitement.”  Grant tried to stand, but gave up after struggling to lift his very heavy storage bag off of the ground.  “It has been a crazy day.”

“Take it from an old soldier, mate.”  Skor pulled out a can of ointment from his belt pouch and started rubbing it on the scratches running down the sides of the giant lizard.  “Sleep every chance you get.  Right now, we are surrounded by most of Junfa April’s Vassals, and nothing is expected of you.  There isn’t anything to do but rest.”

“Okay, I’ll try.  I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, though.”  Grant laid out flat on the grass, and immediately started thinking about how he could have done better during the battle.  He definitely needed to improve his ability to control his lightning spell, especially if there were some way to use it offensively.  He needed a strong finishing move.  Instead of having to battle that Catnip monster for a long time, it would have been better to just blast it hard enough to overcome its resistance and take it down fast.  Then, he blinked, and his eyelids were too heavy to rise.

Chapter 42

“Come on, mate.  It’s time to head back.”  Skor was shaking his shoulder gently, and Grant sat up in confusion.

“What happened?”  The area formerly teeming with people was empty, besides the chariot and the other members of Team Three.

“Junfa April took April Thirteenth and her people back to the convoy.  She wanted to give everyone some time to rest before we joined them.  All three of you were pretty out of it, mate.”  Skor somehow managed to look the same as ever, not showing any sign that he had been fighting fires or in a desperate battle that saw him break bones and fight for his life not all that long ago.  Grant wasn’t sure how he managed it.  “It’s getting late, though.  We need to go.”

It was a struggle to stand up with the heavy storage bag dragging him down, but Grant managed it with help from Sokkur, who saw him struggling.  They mounted the chariot, and the shocks groaned in protest as Grant sat down.  He knew how they felt.  When Sarge had told Grant that every day was leg day, he hadn’t taken the sword spirit seriously.  That was definitely a mistake.

“So, Sokkur, with my bag just about full, do you think I will have a chance to make it into the competition for Junfa at the conclave?”  Grant was feeling pretty good about himself, to be honest, and with only enough room for two or three more medium-sized beasts, the pile they would cause made him tingle in anticipation of showing off.  “There are a whole lot of monsters in there, after all.”

“One full bag, you say?”  Sokkur looked Grant up and down, and did his best to keep the smile off his face.  “Oh, yeah, for sure.  I bet you end up in at least the top five of the contestants!”

“Great!  Thanks man, I really appreciate it!”  Grant was feeling pretty smug, until Sarge had to go and ruin it for him.

<We still haven’t had that talk about sarcasm, have we?>  Grant tried to protest, but when he looked back at Sokkur, he noticed the Vassal was trying to hold back a laugh.  Reimaria finally took pity on him.

“There are usually only five or six competitors, Grant.  Sokkur is just messing with you.”  Remaria turned around to look down at the seated Wielder.  “Remember, the entire economy revolves around monster parts.  If they are using the carcasses for the competition, they reduce the income of their convoy.  That’s why most Wielders don’t actually drop full monsters from their storage bags.  Their whole convoy throws the junk parts into a communal pile, and it adds up over time.  An entire wagon train probably has three or four of those storage bags saved up of just junk parts by this point in the year.”

“And those junk parts represent hundreds for every one of your whole beasts.”  Skor shielded his eyes against the sun that was setting in the distance.  “You will probably match some of the smaller convoys for size, but definitely not for sheer numbers.  Just focus on telling the tale of the Greenlock fight, and you will be fine.  The bragging portion of the competition is where the real test starts.”

A much-defeated Grant slumped against the side of the chariot.  All his hard work couldn’t match up to a whole wagon train of Wielders and Vassals working together.  Grant understood why the leaders of each convoy could lay claim to the junk parts of the monsters their people defeated.  They did represent them in the competition, after all.  It just made the other parts of the competition more important.

“Hey, don’t feel glum, mate.”  Sokkur thumped Grant on the shoulder.  “You have a story to beat just about everyone in the competition.  I bet none of the other Wielders have anything half as interesting.  Except Junfa April herself, of course.  And since she has to go last, you get to tell that battle’s tale first.  And we have seen you fight.  The duels should go fine.”  Grant sat up straighter, remembering the deeds he had accomplished.

“That’s true.  As long as Junfa April doesn’t go first, I do have a good chance to win the story part of the competition, and fighting is what I do best..”  Grant felt the cold fingers of doom release their invisible grasp on his heart.  “All I need to worry about is doing well in the last stage.  What was that one again?”

“Oh, you mean the drinking competition?”  Reimaria gave Grant a quick smile.  “As long as you can keep up and still stand at the end, you have a real chance.”

“Yeah.  A drinking competition.  I drink all the time!  It doesn’t sound all that hard.”  Grant patted the water skin tied to the side of the chariot.  “That one will probably be the easiest competition of all!”

Reimaria opened her mouth to argue, but Skor shook his head.  She gave up on trying to warn Grant about the difference between strong ale and water.  He would figure it out on his own.

Instead of going back to the wagon train along a straight line, Skor had angled the chariot along a looping route that would avoid having to ride between the place where Grant had fought April Thirteenth and where they had all fought against the beast horde.  None of them wanted to push their luck by running into some of the grass tigers that had run when Grant killed the Catnip monster.  It forced them to track farther east than they had been so far.

“What’s that?”  Reimaria pointed off to the far north, where a faint line seemed to snake over the plains.  It originated from the mountains, but trailed south, intersecting where the convoy would be traveling through in the next day or two.  “I can’t tell what it is from here.  Maybe a river?”

“No, there aren’t any rivers through here.”  Skor stood up on his toes to get a better view.  “We’ll figure it out in a day or two.  For now, let’s get a hot meal.”

That met with unanimous approval.  It was a happy group that finally rolled into the camp, having greatly recovered from the battle.  Reimaria and Sokkur were discussing what they were going to eat, while Grant used his utility spell to repair the damage to his armor.  Skor steered their chariot straight for the center of the convoy, where they were already setting things up for the evening meal.  They had spent a full night and most of the day tracking down the House Saturday Wielder, and all of Team Three was exhausted, even with the nap they had taken.

“What’s on the schedule for tomorrow?”  Grant was still in pain from his injuries, but they were easier to ignore with his new levels.  His Bodily Awareness skill didn’t help, of course, but he was quickly discovering that the higher his level, the easier it was to push through any distractions.  “Are we running another RAT patrol?”

“Sorry, mate.  Nothing that fun.”  Skor halted the chariot once they reached the center of the convoy.  “We are on front guard rotation for the next four days.”

“Ah, man!”  Sokkur groaned as he got out of the back.  “It’s so boring up there.  I always hate doing it.”

“Well, it’s gotta be done.”  Reimaria playfully thumped him on the back of his head.  “Besides, it’s better than the rear guard.  At least we don’t have to suck dust the entire time.”

The party of four got in line for their meal, and quickly shuffled through.  The whole team was rewarded for their latest adventure by getting a hefty plate of meat, beans, and potatoes.  Grant was missing the sweet treats found all over District January, but it wasn’t anything that he could do about at the moment.  The four of them headed for Skor’s wagon to eat.

“Mate, do you have a moment?”  Grant looked up and saw April Second waiting for them.  “We need to talk.”

“Sure!”  Grant started to walk over, but April Second shook his head and pointed to Skor.

“Nah, mate.  I need to talk to the Team Leader.”  April Second and Skor walked to the front of the parked wagon and whispered back and forth to one another for a minute.  Grant and the others quickly ate their food, worried that they would be forced to go out on another mission.  “Okay Grant, I need to speak with you now.”  Grant looked up and saw that both Skor and April Second seemed to be upset about something.

“Did I do something wrong?”  Grant swallowed hard, not sure what they could be angry about.  “I don’t remember doing anything to make anyone mad.”

“It isn’t you, mate.”  Skor put his hand on Grant’s shoulder.  “Remember our other member, Fotur?  The one who hurt himself?”  Grant gave a faint nod.  He was the guy who had hurt himself, and Grant had only been filling in for him while he recovered.  “Well, he’s ready to come back, which puts you out of a job.”

“I… I could still ride with you guys in the chariot.  There’s room for one more person, if we all stood.”  Grant swallowed hard, suddenly fighting down tears.  Leaving Team Three felt like he was losing his best friends.  “I promise not to get in the way.”

“It’s actually perfect timing, mate.”  April Second pointed to where Junfa April was escorting April Thirteenth around their camp, introducing the murderous Wielder to all the people she had tried to kill.  Grant briefly thought about how effective it would be to the impressionable young woman.  Junfa April definitely knew what she was doing.  “The Junfa wants you to focus on your cultivation and fighting techniques before the Conclave, instead of just running around on patrol.”

<Honestly Grant, she is right.  Now that your storage bag is mostly full, you need to shift your priorities to bettering your skills.  Don’t forget about your true purpose for being here.  You are supposed to be the new Lord of April soon, and time is running out.>  Grant gave a deep sigh, and nodded his head at the two men facing him.

“Okay.  I get it.”  Grant forced the tears trying to escape to not fall down his dirty cheeks.  “I’m going to triple my focus, and I’ll win that competition.”

“Damn straight you will, mate.”  Skor thumped Grant on the shoulder, in his best impression of Sokkur.  “Make me proud.  I recognize greatness in you.”

“Yeah, what he said.”  April Second gave Grant a half-hearted smile before turning serious.  “Skor isn't wrong, Grant.  You have the potential to be a great leader one day.  That means you have to do a good job, especially now that we understand at least House Saturday is taking the competition seriously this year.  If they are, that means others probably will be too.”

“I’m going to find a place to get some rest, then.  So I can start fresh tomorrow.”  Grant turned to leave, but Skor stopped him.

“You need to wash up first, but I don’t want you sleeping under the stars tonight.  Get a bath and come back to my wagon.  You will be on the couch again.”  Skor pointed off toward the water wagon, where the Warden was setting up some field showers.  They weren’t next to a stream here, so the convoy was using a different way to bathe.  “You better hurry, before the ground gets all muddy from other people using it.”  He ran off, happy to follow the older Vassal’s orders.

Grant’s heart didn’t feel so heavy in his chest after Skor invited him to sleep in his wagon.  Even though he was being separated from Team Three, he wasn’t actually being kicked to the side.  He didn’t feel the same way toward them as he did Suki, but the people of this wagon train were quickly finding a place in his chest that warmed him as the cold water from the giant barrel hosed him down.

Chapter 43

The next morning, Grant found himself sitting on top of the water wagon once again.  He was stretching out the crick in his neck from sleeping on a narrow couch last night, while Sarge listed off the things he needed to work on for the day.

<First, you need to perform each of your new skills then thousand times without a mistake.>  Grant opened his mouth to complain, but Sarge cut him off before he could voice a single mistake.  <You’re still sloppy when combining your skills.  Better is not perfect, and you are barely better than when you first got the full complement of skills.  Until they are burned into your muscle memory, you will have to think about the next move to make.  When you are thinking, you aren’t acting.  When you don’t act, you die.  So get to work.>

“If that’s just the first thing, what’s the second?”  Grant didn’t even bother trying to argue with Sarge about the ten thousand repetition idea.  It wasn’t like Sarge was incorrect about the critique he had given him.

<After doing them each ten thousand times, you will then have to kill one hundred enemies using the combined skills without taking a break.  No spells, no deviations, nothing but pure reflexive combat.>  Sarge let out an evil chuckle.  <Hopefully we can find a big swarm of those Moo-Bees.  Those dagger-like stingers would be perfect for you to fight against.>

“Is that all?”  Grant let out a defeated sigh.  Getting stabbed in the rear again was most likely in his future.  “Anything else I need to do?”

<Yeah, the third thing is the best one!>  Sarge let out another evil laugh.  <You are going to challenge- >  Sarge was cut off by the shouts coming from the front of the convoy.  Considering they were almost the very last wagon, whatever was going on had to be pretty serious.

“What’s going on?  We haven’t been traveling for an hour yet!”  The Warden was hollering down to his disciples that had moved forward to see what the problem might be.  “Is it a fire?”

“No, Warden.  It’s something else.”  A cultist Grant didn’t recognize, a young man barely out of boyhood, was the one to answer.  “It isn’t a bingle, but that’s all I know.”

“I’ll go look, and come back to tell you.”  Grant hopped down to the ground next to the Warden, who gave Grant a look that said ‘hurry it up’ without him actually saying anything.  “I’ll run, I promise.”

“Just hurry things along, mate.  We haven’t got all day.”  The Warden turned to shout orders to his cultists, Grant already forgotten.

As he sprinted down the length of the wagon train, Grant could see people standing on their wagon seats, trying to see what the holdup was.  Several of the guard chariots came thundering by, most likely handing out orders sent by Junfa April.  A steady sense of concern was slowly building the closer to the front Grant got, and he could feel his shoulders start to tense up in preparation for a fight.

“Grant!”  The voice of April Second brought him up short.  “I was just about to send someone to come and get you.”

“What’s wrong?”  Grant ran up to a gathering of the other Wielders in the wagon train.  April Tenth was already walking away as he walked up, and April Tenth pulled Junfa April away so they could speak to one another in private.  Grant walked up to April Second and quickly noticed the tightness around his eyes.  His friend was worried.  “Is there another batch of spies trying to kill us all?”

“No, it isn’t that.”  April Second motioned for him to follow behind as he threaded his way between the wagons the rest of the way to the front.  “It’s much worse.”

“What could be worse than more people trying to kill us?”  Grant had to control his breathing to not sound winded in front of the other Wielder.  His storage pouch was making it difficult to run.  “Another beast horde of some kind?”

“The worst thing for someone in charge is for them to come across something they haven’t seen before.”  April Second pointed in front of the lead chariot as they made it past the very first vehicle.  “The unknown will kill you faster than anything else.  And none of us have ever seen this before.”

What stretched in front of them was a trail of dead grass that flowed through the plains like a river of rot wider than three wagons abreast.  The formerly green and amber hues had been replaced by gray and black, in an unending wavy line that trailed out of sight.  It started farther north, in the mountains, and ran south and east.  The same direction they needed to go.

<This is the thing you and your friends saw when you were riding back to the wagon train.>  It took Grant a minute to remember what Sarge was talking about, but when he remembered, Grant took a step back from the dead vegetation.  <Ask him what could kill grass like this.>

“Um, what could do something like this?  A kind of fire beast or something?”  Grant knew his guess was wrong the moment he said it.

“No, not fire.  Fire, while dangerous, is actually good for the plains.”  April Second bent down and plucked a strand of dead grass out of the ground.  “The ash left behind helps the soil, and the vegetation grows back green and healthy in no time.”  He held up the dead grass.  “This is the opposite of that.  It killed the grass, and hurt the soil.  The dead grass will smother any new grass trying to grow back under it.  Nothing is going to come back here for a long time.”

“What could do something like this?”  Grant plucked his own piece of grass out of the ground.  The smell of rot coupled with the rubbery texture made a slight chill run down his spine.  It didn’t seem natural.

“That’s why I was going to send for you.”  April Second looked back to where Junfa April was now speaking with their prisoner, April Thirteenth.  “When you fought with the House Saturday Wielder, did she mention anything about this?  Or did she say what the concoction she was trying to make was supposed to do?”

“No, it wasn’t anything like that.  And the small caldron she was using couldn’t make nearly enough… of whatever, to cover this much ground.”  Grant motioned to the long stretch of dead grass that ran out of sight.  “It would take months for her to manage something like this.”

“Well, if it wasn’t caused by alchemy, that means it’s probably safe for us to cross.”  April Second carefully stepped out onto the rotting vegetation, causing the smell of mold to billow up around him.  “It isn’t exactly pleasant, but there is no reason why we can’t continue.  As long as the Meatballs don’t try to eat it or anything.”

“Is there anything you want me to do?”  Grant was ready and willing to follow the trail of rot until he discovered what had caused this.

“No, you need to get back to training.”  It was Junfa April who answered, causing Grant to spin around.  “The RAT patrol came back while you two were playing in the dead grass.  The House Friday wagon train is up ahead, and we will be linking up with them soon.  I need everyone to keep their eyes open, and make sure it is only House Saturday that has plans against us.”

“We are linking up with them?”  April Second seemed genuinely surprised.  “We normally only join with House Thursday when we travel.  The merchants give us good deals when we provide extra protection through the plains.  Why would we link up with the bounty hunters?”

“They actually asked us to join them.”  Junfa April looked out to the east, where they must have been waiting for their arrival.  “Their wagon train has seen an uptick of beast attacks, and they feel that joining with us will make the journey easier.”

“Wow.  Those guys are fight-crazy loons.  A House Friday loves to test themselves against anything and everything.”  April Second looked down at the dead grass at his feet.  “Things must be really bad if even they are asking for help.”

“That’s why I need you two to keep your eyes and ears open when we join up with them, mate.”  Junfa April turned and looked Grant in the eyes.  “And you should probably expect to fight them a bunch.  Once they realize there is a new Wielder they can fight, their people will be all over you for a duel.  Just make sure to keep it in the ring.”  Grant nodded in agreement, and she relaxed a little.  “Okay, now get back to training.  You will be doing a whole lot of fighting soon.”

She didn’t give Grant a chance to reply, instead hurrying back to shout orders to the lead wagons.  April Second gave a wave goodbye, his face troubled by the recent turn of events.

<Wow, what great news!>  Sarge sounded genuinely happy, which confused Grant.  What was good about the mysterious trail of dead grass?  <How many Wielders do you think you will be able to fight?  There has to be at least four or five in their wagon train, right?  That’s going to be some instant levels for you!>

“Ah, yeah, I almost forgot about that.”  Grant started walking back toward the water wagon.  “I guess I know what my next goal is.”

<Defeat all the Wielders in House Friday!>

Chapter 44

Iaijutsu, leading into Peach Flower Petal Flurry, then a Belladonna Dodge that allowed for the perfect Begonia Chop, followed by Hemlock’s Bane, finished off with an Oleander Thrust.  His Uchigatana was wreathed with lightning at times, his Lightning Attunement Skill unconsciously bleeding through.  Grant’s sword danced through the orange-tinted foes invisible to anyone but him, their imaginary deaths by this point were beyond counting.

Sarge had been throwing different combinations of warriors and beasts to try and throw him off, so Grant had doubled down on using his skills, varying the order to use them based on the situation.

<You know, I think you are almost done with the ten thousand repetitions.>  Grant smoothly sheathed his sword, looking around to make sure no one was within earshot.  The only living things nearby were the Meatballs that had been clustered nearby ever since they had joined up with the House Friday wagon train.  It was like the more of the smelly beasts there were, the more they wanted to follow Grant around.  <It’s quite the accomplishment for only training for three days straight.>

“That’s because you won’t let me rest.”  Grant had only been given a break to eat, and Sarge was taking full advantage of his ability to ignore the need for sleep.  Just because he didn’t need sleep didn’t mean Grant didn’t want sleep.  “You do know that if I don’t sleep at least every once in a while, I’ll go crazy, right?”

<Sure!>  Sarge seemed unbothered by his struggles.  <But the good news is, that won’t happen for a really long time.  Besides, you and I both know there will be plenty of time for you to rest once we get to the Conclave.>

“Speaking of the Conclave, there are only two days left until we finally get there.”  Grant had been shocked at how much faster they had managed to travel after linking up with House Friday.  The larger caravan was able to travel five wagons abreast, and almost all of the beast attacks died off completely.  No monsters were willing to try and fight such a large group.  It made Grant wonder why they weren’t willing to stay together all the time, but he figured it had something to do with politics.  “I don’t think I am going to have time to hunt down a bunch of Moo-Bees and complete the task you laid out for me.”

<That’s what tonight’s schedule is going to be.>  Sarge chuckled as Grant’s shoulders fell.  <Don’t worry.  I’m sure you won’t get stabbed in the butt again.  I mean, seriously, what are the odds of that happening again?>

“How am I supposed to just find a bunch of Moo-Bees anyway?  It isn’t like they grow on trees or something.”  Grant looked around from his place near the back of the convoy, where they had parked early because of a nearby string of ponds.  “There are literally zero trees around here for them to grow on.”

<Oh, that’s an easy one.>  Sarge put an orange arrow in his vision, pointing directly north.  <I already saw one flying around a pond over there while you were fighting those imaginary clowns I sent after you.>

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that.”  Grant had a slight shiver run down his spine.  “Can we have fewer clowns and spiders during training?  I’m really getting tired of dealing with them.”

<Nope.  That’s exactly why I keep mixing them in.>  Sarge made a very familiar-looking clown wearing plate armor shimmer into Grant’s vision, just out of easy reach for his lunge skill.  <We need to work through those irrational fears you have.  So, until you see them as just another enemy, expect to keep getting attacked by invisible clowns and spiders.>

“I feel like I might understand the definition of the word ‘irrational’ better than you do, Sarge.”  Grant had been dealing with monstrous spiders for months now, and several clowns really had tried to kill him.  A whole bunch of times.  “Those fears aren’t exactly irrational.”  Grant was tired of seeing the clown, so he casually walked forward and cut it’s head off, forcing the illusion to dissolve into vapor.

<Let’s not lose focus here.  Since you weren’t able to fight any of the House Friday Wielders, you need to go and kill a lot of beasts and level up at least one more time before the competition.  If the other contestants are anything like Junfa April, you are going to need every advantage you can get.>  Grant let out a defeated sigh, and bent over to make sure his boots were strapped on tight.

“I still can’t believe how beat up those poor Wielders were.  They must have really been put through the wringer.”  Grant had been expecting a challenge from someone in the House Friday caravan on the first night they stopped after joining forces.  It had been a huge disappointment.  When their Wielder’s got in line for food, every one of them was covered in bandages.  Their Vassals were even worse.  “If they were telling the truth, those nobles have been fighting for almost a whole month straight.”

<I overheard one of them telling April Tenth that it was because they got too close to the barrier.  It isn’t holding like it used to, and things are getting through in unprecedented numbers.>  Grant’s mind flashed back to the problems with the barrier in District February.  It had been failing as well, until he took over and fixed it with the power of his Wielded Weapon, February Twenty Nine.  <There might even be full-blown holes in the barrier, according to what they were saying.  You are going to need to fix it if you want this District to still be here when you become the Calendar King.>

“Grant!”  His private conversation with his sword spirit was interrupted by the arrival of Skor.  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, mate.  You haven’t come back to sleep in my wagon the past few nights, ever since we saw that trail of dead grass.  Is everything okay?”

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that.”  Grant walked over and gave the wiry old man a hug.  It was good to see him, even though it had only been a few days.  “I have really been training hard, and I just haven’t had the time to track down your wagon after dark.”

“Don’t go working yourself to death.  You need sleep, otherwise your body won’t be able to recover.”  Skor motioned for Grant to follow him.  “My brother cooked up something special tonight.  Why don’t you come try some, and put your feet up for a little while.”

“Sorry, but I can’t.”  Grant saw a flash of hurt in Skor’s eyes.  “Not yet, I mean.  I would love to come and eat with you, but I have to kill a bunch of Moo-Bees over by that northern pond first.  I saw them when we were setting up camp, and I figured they would be the perfect thing to finish filling up my storage bag.”

“Oh, that’s alright then.”  Skor’s posture straightened out, and he smiled at Grant.  “You be careful hunting down those things, and holler if you need help.  Well, shoot off your lightning or something.  We probably wouldn’t hear if you were just shouting.”  Skor pointed toward the center of the ring of wagons.  “Come on by when you’re done.  I’ll keep the pot warm for you.”

“Thanks Skor, I really appreciate it.”  Grant waved goodbye as he ran off, the spring in his step obvious to even himself.  Skor was like the uncle he never had, and to know he was thinking about Grant made him feel good.  “Okay Sarge, where are these stupid Moo-Bees supposed to be flying around.”

Grant followed the arrow pointing him toward the mountains in the distance, where the light from the setting sun bounced off the mirror-like surface of the pond a few hundred yards away.  As he got closer, Grant could hear the faint buzzing sound of several insects while they flew around the rim of the pond.  He slowed down, worried about the possibility of one of those pond monsters being in this one.  They were an ambush predator that Grant really didn’t want to have to fight underwater.

The droning sound of several flying creatures got louder, and he could feel himself tensing up.  Being out on the plains by himself, even with the wagon train still within sight, was making him nervous.  Just before he could get close enough to look for tracks, a sharp stabbing pain hit him.  Right in the butt.

“By the Sword Saints!  I knew it!”  Grant grabbed the offending Moo-Bee and plucked it out of his hind-end before crushing it in his grip.  “These things are definitely trying to stab me in the butt!”

His shouting caught the attention of all the other Moo-Bees, and very quickly Grant had to forget about the throbbing in his right cheek.  A swarm of the cow-colored, dagger-tailed creatures seemed to spring in place around him.  He fought against the instinct to use his Thundering Step, and focused on his skills.  Grant used Peach Petal Flurry like never before, his Uchigatana singing as it cut through the murderous insects intent on his death.  Or, at least intent on stabbing him in the butt.  He perfectly timed a Begonia Chop to slice down four giant bees in one swing.

Grant’s body moved without thought, and for the first time since getting his full set of skills, he stopped thinking, and just moved.  Time lost all meaning, and when he finally came to a stop, flicking his blade clean before returning it to it’s sheath, Grant had no idea how much time had passed.

<It’s been less than ten minutes.  Stop being dramatic.>  Grant snorted in amusement.  That was a pretty good compliment from Sarge.  <Yeah, you’re right.  It was a good job.>

Dao Seed of Change activated!

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

Peach Flower Petal Flurry (2/3). Tier one effect: A series of sharp stabs and quick deflections, now your sword increases penetration and damage by 10%.

Tier two effect: All attacks that connect with a critical zone now do the maximum level of critical hit damage.

“Yes!”  Grant jumped into the air with joy, then winced in pain due to his injury as soon as he came back down.  “The need to use Iaijutsu is gone.  Now I can use that skill any time I want, instead of only at the beginning of a fight.”  Then, another screen popped into view.

Strength is Power

Cultivation Level increased to 33

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: 33

Cultivation Stage: Mid Autumn

Inherent Abilities: Swirling Seasons Cultivation

Health: 887/940

Mana: 39/39

Physical: 593

Mental: 156

Armor Proficiency: 269

Weapon Proficiency: 282

<Congratulations.  I was hoping you would hit over a thousand health points before we made it to the Conclave, but this is pretty close.  It isn’t your fault there were only forty-four Moo-Bees to kill.>  Grant could feel Sarge poking around in his head for a moment before he continued.  <Your base damage is now one hundred and fifty six, which is getting closer to acceptable.  The real advantage is that boost to your Flurry skill.  Your critical hit damage is two hundred and thirty four.  That’s enough to make you a serious contender.>

“I guess I should do my best to aim for critical spots.”  Grant could feel the trickle of blood from his wound stop as his level increase boosted his healing.  He was alone and didn’t know if there was a monster lurking in the nearby pond, so he refrained from using the meditation skill to heal himself.  “I am going to head back to the wagons.  Since I got blood all over myself, I will need to wash up before I can join Skor for supper.”

<Yeah, go wash your butt.  We can afford one night of rest, to get you into top form for the competition.  We wouldn’t want you to lose because of a Moo-Bee.>

“No kidding.  Those Moo-Bees are dangerous.”  Grant did his best not to limp back to the safety of the wagons.

Chapter 45

The next day was Grant’s last chance to train before they reached the Conclave.  Junfa April stopped by to check up on him, with April Thirteenth close behind.  The prisoner didn’t have a guard, but it wasn’t really necessary with Junfa April standing right there.

“So, have you seen any progress with forming your second Dao Seed?”  Junfa April had brought Grant a breakfast roll, so he had to force it down before answering.

“Not yet.”  He took a drink of fruit juice to clear his throat.  “It hasn’t formed, but at least I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere with my skills.”

“Your skills don’t have any bearing on forming a Dao Seed.  Some cultivators have reached incredibly far in their skill levels, but never form a Seed.”  Junfa April pointedly looked over at April Thirteenth.  “Her father, for example, is several centuries old, and has yet to form even one.  You formed your first before reaching twenty.”  She leaned forward and tapped Grant on the forehead.  “It’s about embracing the Dao.  Becoming the embodiment of what it stands for.”

“Like how I changed from a know-nothing Leap into the Lord of three different Districts in only three months?”  Grant smiled to show his sarcastic comment was only a jest made in fun.

“Ha, yes.  Like that, mate.”  Junfa April looked down at Grant’s Uchigatana.  “I don’t know how you are supposed to be the embodiment of a sword, though.  Change is an idea, but a sword is just an object.”

<That’s all I am to her?  Just an object?>  Sarge harumpted in anger.  <Well, she doesn’t know anything about how you gain a Dao Seed.  Don’t worry, Grant.  We’ll prove her wrong.>

“I’m sure something will come to me.”  Hearing Sarge getting flustered was strangely soothing to Grant’s psyche.  “All I need to do is think of things in a different light, and I bet I’ll have it in no time.”

“Well, I hope you’re right.”  Junfa April leaned in close, so she could talk without April Thirteenth overhearing them.  “Tomorrow, we will reach the Conclave.  I want you riding at the front with me, so you can announce your entering in the competition.  Also, in case I need you to stand witness for the trial that we will hold for House Saturday, you won’t be far away.”

“Sounds good, Junfa April.”  Grant turned to the barrel on wheels that was the water wagon.  “I better get what practice I can, before we get there.”

“Why don’t you try studying the sharpness of your sword again, the way we discussed before?”  Junfa April gave him a sharp glare.  “I know you haven’t been trying to recently.”

“I’ll give it another try.”  Grant gave her a subdued grin, and jumped on top of the wagon as she walked away.  A few minutes later, the wagons started rolling, and Grant sat down before pulling free his sword.  “Now to waste my time, I suppose.”

Sarge was suspiciously silent as he laid his Uchigatana across his knees.  Grant took a few minutes to clear his mind, ignoring the pain of sitting on the almost-healed wound left by the Moo-Bee.  Focusing on the way the edge of his blade sliced through the air felt stupid, but he was willing to give it another try.  At the very least, he wasn’t jumping around on the back of a curved barrel, risking tearing his butt wound open again.

The increased speed and number of wagons stirred up more dust as they traveled, which allowed Grant to see the eddies and swirls of the wind as his sword cut through the air.  He turned the edge up and down by minute degrees, watching as the dust spun in different patterns.  It was like he was right on the cusp of understanding something… deeper.  Something that would unlock a new reality.  A different way of seeing how the world worked.  How one force, applied to another, would-

“There you are!”  Grant was cut off by the voice of April Second, who had jumped up on the back of the wagon to join him.  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Is something wrong?”  Grant got to his feet, ignoring the protest from his knees from sitting still for so long.  He was surprised to see it was already midday.  He had lost track of time meditating over his sword.  “Do you need me to fight?”

“No, it isn’t that.”  April Second motioned for him to sit back down.  “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, okay.”  Grant sat back down, sheathing his sword and pulling out a water skin from his extremely heavy storage bag.  “What’s the problem?”

“It isn’t that there is a problem.”  April Second leaned back to think for a moment while making sure to look around for any eavesdroppers.  The only person within hearing range was the Warden, who was driving the wagon, and the sound of the wind blowing past his ears would make it impossible for him to listen.  April Second leaned forward and lowered his volume just to be safe.  “It’s more like I want to talk about what could happen, if my fears are true.”

“What fears?”  Grant could see real concern in the man’s eyes.  It genuinely worried him.  “Is it about House Saturday?”

“No, that Junfa April can handle.  What I’m talking about is much worse, mate.”  April Second looked toward the front of the convoy, where Junfa April was riding.  “I’m more worried if House Saturday is right.”

“You mean you think House Saturday should be in charge?”  Grant could feel himself tense up, ready to fight.

“No, not that.”  April Second patted the air with his hands, signaling Grant to calm down.  “I want to talk about what to do if the Ice Wraith is actually walking the plains again.”

“Oh, I see.”  Grant shrugged his shoulders and relaxed his posture.  “That’s easy.  We just kill it if it tries to attack.”

“It isn’t that simple, cobber.”  April Second pulled the strand of dead grass out of his pocket.  “You can’t attack it like a normal monster or beast.  Just touching it can kill you.”  He held up the piece of grass.  “This is what happens.  You freeze solid, and when you thaw out, you’re dead.  Because of the danger of fire on the plains, almost no one has fire magic to stand up against it.”  April Second let the strand of grass go, and it flew out of his hand.  “The only thing we can do is delay it, and allow as many people as possible to get away.”

“No beast is invincible.  I’m sure there is a way to kill it.”  Grant tapped his sword hilt.  “There hasn’t been anything my sword has met that can’t be defeated.  Besides, how do you know it’s still not hiding up in the mountains?”

“I have discussed what could have caused that trail of dead grass with all of the oldest people in both our convoy and House Friday’s, and it’s almost unanimous.  Only one thing kills vegetation like that, and it’s the Ice Wraith.”

“Okay, so let’s say it is back.  What do you want me to do about it?”  Grant shifted to take the weight off his right butt cheek.  “Stand and fight with you while the others get away?”

“No, mate.  I want you to do something much harder.”  He leaned forward to look Grant straight in the eye.  “I want you to run.”

“Run?  I don’t understand.”  Grant felt shocked to his core.  Why would he run away from a fight?  “Is that what Junfa April wants me to do?”

“I tried talking with her about this, but she doesn’t want to hear it.  I think she’s scared.  Junfa April was there the last time the Houses united to fight the Ice Wraith, and I think it scarred her worse than even she understands.”  He waved away the idea.  “This is just me, making contingency plans.”

“So, why do you want me to run?  Do you think I can’t handle it?”  Grant could feel his face get hot with anger.  “I assure you, I can handle myself in a fight.”

“I know you can fight, cobber.  You, and hundreds of others.”  April Second took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “But what they don’t have is a spell that lets them run as fast as you can.  Someone needs to get away, and come back after the fight with the Ice Wraith has finished.  A person that would be neutral.  Anyone else on the caravans would heavily favor their own people.  Only an outsider can be objective enough to do what needs to be done.”

“What do you mean?  What needs to be done?”  Grant’s anger was quickly cooling down into a sense of dread.  “Why do you need someone who is neutral so bad?”

“Because, mate.”  April Second lowered his voice until it was little more than a whisper.  “We need someone to come back and collect all the Wielded Weapons off of the dead, and pass them out to whoever is left alive.  No one who stays to fight will make it.  Not one.  All of them will die.”