Junfa April: Chapters 46-53 (Ending) (Patreon)

Chapter 46

The rest of the day passed in a blur.  Grant trained some more after April Second left, but he couldn’t recreate the feeling of enlightenment he almost had before the interruption.  His heart just wasn’t in it.  Instead, he focused on controlling his lightning spells.  Stacking them on top of one another had allowed him to kill a massive amount of Greenlock, and if the Ice Wraith showed up, he wanted to be able to do it again.  Grant could manage to hold two at once, but when he tried to add a third spell, the pounding in his head made it impossible.  It didn’t help that in the back of his mind, he kept replaying his conversation with April Second.  Could he truly stand aside while others fought in his place?  It wasn’t something that sat right with him.

That evening, Grant ate with Skor and Stigvel, and tried to act like nothing was wrong.  It was made easier when Sokkur and Reimaria showed up to see how he was doing, but when he finally laid down to sleep, it wouldn’t come.

When morning came, Grant felt sore and grumpy.  Junfa April stopped by to grab him and both headed to the front of the convoy as the wagons got lined up.  His passing caused a stir with the Meatballs, but he was too distracted to pay them any attention.  They joined the leader of the House Friday wagon train on an opulent chariot pulled by two Saunterlings, the carved and gilt-covered wood shining in the early morning sunlight.

“Junfa!  Good morning to you.  I hope your night went well?”  The House Friday leader was a robust man, well-muscled and with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.  His armor was almost as ornate as his chariot, and the only thing marring his air of perfection was the sling holding his left arm in place.  Even the leader of House Friday had been injured in the extended battles they had fought.  “And who is this young man?”

“This is Grant.  He wants to join the competition for Junfa at the Conclave.”  Junfa April looked back, where two of her Vassals were squeezed onto the same wagon seat as April Thirteenth, who was wearing a set of iron shackles.  They were steering her personal house-wagon, since she was riding with the leader of House Friday.  It was obvious the House Saturday Wielder was very uncomfortable.  “He is also the person responsible for capturing our little interloper back there.”

“Ah, the Wielder from Spring!”  The man held out his hand for Grant to shake.  “I’m April Eighth.  It’s good to finally meet the man behind the legend.”

“I don’t know about being a legend.”  Grant blushed in embarrassment.  “I’m sure whatever you have heard about me is exaggerated.”

“Oh, I am more than sure of that, mate.”  April Eighth’s smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.  “And what makes you think you can try for the position of Junfa this year?  I won’t be competing, but my own son is taking my place.  I would feel bad if a visitor like yourself were to become injured by mighty warriors like him.”

“Stop, Eighth.  You know as well as I do that someone with a big enough pile of beasts can join the competition.  There is no rule saying it can’t come from someone outside.”  Junfa April shook her head at him and turned to look at Grant.  “Don’t be surprised if you aren’t challenged before the competition anyway.  I’m sure plenty of the Nobility will feel like the illustrious leader of House Friday does.  Just stay focused, and don’t let them bother you.”

“Of course others will be bothered!”  April Eighth thumped the side of the chariot with his fist, causing the Saunterlings to start moving forward.  “Some soft Spring Wielder thinks they have the strength necessary to lead District April?  I can hear the uproar now.”

“If he isn’t worthy, then he will lose in the competition anyway.  Don’t worry so much, Eighth.”  She gave the other warrior a hard thump on his injured shoulder, causing the man to wince in pain.  “Besides, I vouch for him.  Are you trying to say you have a problem with my decisions?”

“N-no, of course not, Junfa April.”  His face paled a few shades, either because she had actually hurt him, or because he was afraid she would.  “I’m sure it will be fine.”  He snapped the reins, getting his Saunterlings to speed up.  “Let’s get moving, shall we?”

Pretty soon, conversation became impossible.  While April Eighth’s chariot looked fancy, it didn’t ride - or sound - like a quality vehicle.  One of the wheels had a faint squeak that put Grant’s teeth on edge, and the suspension was poor enough that if you tried to open your mouth to speak, you might bite the tip of your own tongue off.

<Let this be a lesson to you, Grant.  Just because it looks nice on the outside, doesn’t mean it is on the inside.>  Grant grunted in agreement.  He thought the chariot might be a good representation of April Eighth as well.  Sarge immediately corrected him.  <I think you are wrong about what kind of a person he is.  Any leader willing to fight for his people has their moral compass pointed in the right direction.  He just sees you as a threat to his normal way of life.>  Grant looked over to him, watching as the Wielder snapped the reins roughly against the skin of the Saunterlings.  <Or, maybe he is a good leader, and just a jerk of a person.>

April Eighth’s urging made the Saunterlings pick up speed, until the convoy behind them became dangerously spread out.  Junfa April held her peace, allowing the Wielder to continue without argument.  It was obvious the man wanted to get to the site of the Conclave, and separate himself from the two people beside him.

His tactic worked.  Before they even had to stop for lunch, the oversized convoy reached a plateau that sat in the middle of the plains like a rocky island in the middle of a grassy sea.  The faint glow of the barrier sat on the far horizon, only visible once they made their way up the switchback trail that led to the top.

Grant could immediately see why they chose this location for their yearly meeting.  The plateau looked like someone had cut off the top of a mountain with a jagged blade.  It wasn’t quite perfectly level, but it was close enough.  The steep sides made it a sound tactical location, and only having one section to guard meant a small number could hold against a superior force for an extended period of time.  A large, crystal clear pond sat in the middle of the barren rocky expanse, fed by a spring from underground.  A trickle of water ran over the same side as the trail that led to the top, evidence of how the path had originally been formed.

<It’s only a solid defense against other humans.  Plenty of monsters can climb up the sides, and an overwhelming majority of the monsters in this district can fly.  Don’t let your guard down just because we are in a slightly safer location.>  Grant gave a small grunt of agreement.  Looking back at April Thirteenth, he was reminded that not all threats might come from someone who was even supposed to be at the Conclave.  <Yes, good thinking.  From now on, everyone you meet is your competition.  You need to remember to stay sharp.  Even Junfa April will be going against you.>

The thought of having to fight her made him grip the edge of the chariot until his knuckles turned white.  He hadn’t come close to beating her yet.  Only his recent advances in his skills, and the possible inclusion of his spells, made him think there was even a chance of him winning.  Grant was finally broken out of his thoughts when they pulled up to a flatbed wagon that had been made to look like a stage.  Standing on top of it were five Wielders, each of them wearing the colors of the Houses they represented.

“Welcome to the Conclave of Houses!”  The speaker was the oldest of the people standing on the stage, a woman who looked to be of a similar age to April Tenth.  Her hunched form still managed to convey a sense of strength and stability, and her voice wasn’t in any way feeble or brittle like she appeared.  Her white hair cascaded down her back in a solid wave, and her violet robes marked her as House Sunday nobility.  “Now that House Wednesday and House Friday have arrived, we can begin!”

“Sure, right after they explain to me why my daughter is with them in chains!”  The angry man - who had to be April Third - was wearing black robes trimmed in the indigo colors of House Saturday.  His black hair and mustachioed face didn’t look anything like the statues Grant had seen of Suki’s father, meaning April Thirteenth must have gotten her looks from her mother.  His face was so red Grant was worried it would pop like a blood blister.  “Otherwise, this will be the shortest and bloodiest Conclave in history!”

Chapter 47

“You know exactly why she’s in chains, April Third.  Don’t act innocent.”  Junfa April hopped down from the chariot and walked over to where the others were standing.  “House Saturday attempted to kill my entire wagon train, and April Third sent his daughter to do the deed.”

“I did no such thing!”  He went from deep red to purple, and Grant went from jokingly concerned for his health, to genuinely worried.  “This is all some kind of plot cooked up by Junfa April to defame my House in front of everyone!”

“Oh, shut up you old wind bag.”  The woman from House Sunday did her best to straighten her crooked spine and stand tall in the face of the irate Wielder.  “Even the Meatballs know Junfa April isn’t that conniving.  Your gambit failed.  Now take your thumping like a man.”

“I would never -”  He was holding onto the hilt of a dagger at his hip, clearly prepared to escalate things.  Luckily for everyone involved, Junfa April stepped in to stop him before it could get worse.

“House Saturday pays your daughter’s weight in healing potions, and half as much in mana potions.  You give all my people a forty percent discount on all goods you sell for the next three years.  And if you ever try something like that again, you and I fight a duel to the death, no rules, and no mercy.”  Junfa April’s whips were in her hands, the blue light emitted by them just short of blinding.  “If that doesn’t work for you, we can just skip to the end, where I kill you and your daughter and anyone else who was involved in your plot.”

“A twenty percent discount for two years, and a quarter of her weight in mana potions.”  The turnaround of April Third’s demeanor was absolutely terrifying.  The man went from near bursting with violence, to a mild-mannered alchemist in a heartbeat.

“No bartering, Saturday.  This is me telling you what is going to happen.”  Junfa April rolled her wrists, causing the whips in each hand to dance.  “It has been too long since the Houses have witnessed what I am capable of, and you will serve as my example if the next words out of your mouth aren’t exactly what I want to hear.”

“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I must accept.”  April Third hopped down to stand next to Junfa April in front of the stage.  He held out his hand to her, his face decorated with a smile that Grant could see was fake all the way from the chariot.  “Shall we shake on it?”

“If you touch me with those poisonous hands, I’ll rip your head off.”  She took a step away from the Wielder, clearly aware of the danger a master of alchemy might represent.

“That would be a no then.  Ah well, can’t blame a man for trying.”  He jovially walked toward the wagon where his daughter was waiting.  “I have a runner bringing the potions.  For now, my daughter comes with me.”  Junfa April gave a slight nod toward her guards, and they released the girl.  April Third turned back to look at Junfa April.  “And her weapon?”

“I will give it to your runner, when I verify the potions you send aren’t tainted with something… unpleasant.”  She gave the pouch on her belt a pat, and April Third gave her a chagrined smile.

“Fair enough.”  Grant watched as he subtly signaled a hooded figure standing off to the side of the stage, and they put a storage pouch back on their belt.  Apparently, he had people walking around with poisoned healing potions.  April Third looked back at Junfa April.  “I’ll have the potions for you before the evening meal.”

“That’s what I figured.”  Junfa April’s eyes darted over to the hooded figure just long enough for her to show that she had caught his attempted trick.  “Make sure you bring all of them.  And if my people get sick from anything they purchase from your alchemists, I’ll be seeing you again.”

“Okay, okay.  I get the point, Junfa.  No more funny business.  Just give me my daughter, please.”  April Third walked unhindered to his daughter, and the two of them walked toward a circle of camouflaged wagons near the far edge of the plateau.

“I guess you didn’t need me as a witness after all.”  Grant moved out of the way as Junfa April climbed back in the chariot.  “Is every Conclave this exciting?”

“Nah, mate.  This one is pretty tame.”  April Eighth answered, and started steering his chariot toward the near side of the pond in the center of the plateau.  “No one is even bleeding right now.”

“Wow.  That’s pretty rough.”  Grant looked out at all the wagons that covered the plateau.  “There are a lot more people here than I expected.  I thought there were only six big wagon trains out there, but I see dozens of groups off by themselves.”

“You came to our wagon train near the end of the season, which means you didn’t see how things usually work.”  Junfa April pointed toward a colorful cluster of wagons where some people were setting up a smelting furnace.  “Most convoys have an almost constant turnover as small groups bounce between Houses depending on what their wants and needs might be.  Sometimes, they even form their own wagon trains for stretches of time.  Things only firm up the month before the Conclave, so everyone can get here safely.”

“Why is it such a big deal that everyone shows up?”  Grant understood the competition for who was Junfa, but it didn’t make sense why those not competing felt like it was so necessary to interrupt their lives just to come.

“Oh, that’s easy.”  April Third steered around a large rock before pulling up to a stop.  “It’s because this is where you trade for everything you need for the next year.”

“A whole year?”  Grant couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of planning out the needs of hundreds of people for longer than a day or two.  Even his own life was just a series of one major event after the next.  Detailed plans were beyond his experience.  “Why in Regent’s name would you have to do that?”

“Every wagon train needs metal for nails, wood for wagon repairs, and leather for harnesses, right?”  Grant nodded at April Third.  That he could easily understand.  “Well, you need the claws of a grass tiger to get the metal, the wood from a Saproling to make boards, and the hide from any number of creatures to make the harness.  Then, once you have gathered all of those monster parts, you actually need the knowledge, equipment, and expertise to create those items.  Do you think every convoy has all that?”

“Well, no…”  Grant trailed off, as it finally sunk in.  “So, for the metal, House Wednesday gives the claws to the craftsmen in House Sunday, who turn it into nails.  Then House Thursday buys it in bulk, and sells it to whoever needs it.  Stuff like that?”

“You are missing a few parts of the process, but you get the basic idea.”  Junfa April took over the explanation as they got down from the chariot.  She waved goodbye to April Third as she led Grant to where House Wednesday was setting up their usual circle of wagons, separating from the House Friday weapons for the first time in several days.  “That’s how the economy works here in District April, just on a wider scale than wagon parts.  Everyone comes to the Conclave because they don’t have any other option.”

“What about announcing I’m entering the competition this year?”  It had slipped Grant’s mind during all the excitement.  “When should we do that?”

“Tonight there will be a great feast and celebration, where the contestants show off their piles of beasts.  You will have to say something then.”  She turned to leave, and Grant went to get some lunch.  Before he got out of earshot, she shouted over to him.  “I hope you’re ready, Grant.  Things can happen quickly once the competition begins.  Not even I can tell you what will happen.  Watch yourself.”

All of a sudden, Grant wasn’t quite as hungry.

Chapter 48

Instead of going to get some food, Grant made his way over to the edge of the pond to help clear his head.  He could see people setting up long tables along the side closest to the entrance, and wood was being piled up for a bonfire in a depression slightly downslope from where they were staging things.  From where he was standing, it looked like someone had kicked a hive of Moo-Bees, and the only thing keeping the mass of humanity from devolving into pure chaos was the excitement over the evening’s festivities.

<Don’t worry so much, Grant.  You have as good of a chance as anyone to win this competition.  Just keep a clear head and don’t forget what’s at stake.>  Grant looked down at his reflection in the pond, and barely recognized the person staring back at him.  Things had changed so much for him over the past few months, and he was determined to make sure his journey didn’t finish before its proper time.  The reflection staring back at him looked determined.  And dangerous.

“You know, it’s considered vain to stare at yourself too much.”  Grant looked over to see Skor trudging over the rocky ground toward him.  The wizened warrior plopped down on the bank before pulling his boots off and sticking them in the pond.  “This hard ground is rough on an old man’s feet.”  Skor looked out over the still water to where the preparations were going on.  "Worried about this evening?"

"I don't know if I can win the title of Junfa, and if I don't…" Grant let out a heavy sigh.  "Things won't go well for me."

"Mate, it sounds to me like you have a big problem, with a simple solution."  Skor waited to make sure he had Grant’s full attention. "Win."

"Thanks. I'm really glad I didn't think of that.  Your advice changes everything."  Grant’s voice was flat, his sarcasm as poignant as he could possibly make it.  Skor burst into laughter, and pretty soon Grant was chuckling along with him.  After they got it out of their system, Grant took off his boots and joined Skor.  "I guess I needed that."

"We all need to laugh every now and then.”  The two of them sat in companionable silence for a while, just watching the preparations for the competition.  Most people not involved in the process were making their way around the various camps, buying and selling all kinds of items and goods.  More than one frazzled-looking husband was carrying around armloads of storage bags, while their wives picked through the wares displayed in clusters a short distance from the hustle and bustle near the banks of the pond.  It had a festive air, tinted with the expectation of sudden violence a life on the plains had embedded in everyone living in District April.  Finally, Skor let loose a groan and got to his feet.  “Time for me to get back to work.  I’m supposed to find eight hundred arrowheads for April Tenth before the conclave ends, and I have no idea where our usual supplier has set up this year.”  He leaned over and patted Grant gently on the shoulder.  “Good luck tonight.”

Instead of answering, Grant got his own boots back on.  For some reason, he was hungry again.  He decided to go and see if any of the vendors were selling food, and set off to explore.

While Grant was weaving his way through the masses, he followed his nose to something he hadn’t smelled in a very long time.

“Pie!  I’ve got six different flavors, and each slice comes with a dollop of fresh cream!”  The man standing beside a small brick oven on wheels was the plumpest he had seen since District January, and he could feel his heart swell with joy.  Finally, someone who knew how to appreciate the good things in life!  Grant knew one thing for sure, and that was to always trust a fat man to tell you which food was the best.  And it was practically impossible to mess up pie.  The baker looked excited as soon as it became apparent that Grant was a customer, and quickly flashed a shining smile.  “Welcome, mate!  What’ll it be?”

“I’ll take a slice of each.  With extra cream!”  Grant was practically drooling, and it was hard to fight back the tears that wanted to escape down his cheeks.  After paying the man with the corpses of three Moo-Bees, Grant hurried back to his spot by the river to enjoy his purchase.

<You do know, if you eat all six slices of pie, I’m going to make you work it off.  Eating protein and carbohydrates before a fight is much better than all this sugar.>

“Don’t even care.”  Grant took a massive bite of something with a yellow filling that reminded him of blueberries.  It was amazing.  He was afraid he might pass out from the euphoria.  “It’s worth every drop of sweat you manage to eke out of me.”

Sarge left him alone, the sword spirit willing to let him enjoy his unhealthy meal.  It surprised Grant that he couldn’t finish it, and he only managed to eat a few bites from each slice.  Instead of tossing them away, he put them in his storage bag.  Maybe he could eat more of it later.

<Well, since you didn’t eat the whole thing, I guess I can go easy on you.>  Sarge lit up a path that circled the edge of the entire plateau.  <Better get running!>

Grant didn’t bother arguing about physical activity after eating.  He was used to it.  His first loop took almost half an hour to finish, but by the time he was done, for some reason he wanted to keep going.  On his second lap, Sarge threw in the occasional enemy for him to fight, so Grant practiced fighting while running.  It was good exercise, and pretty soon he was dripping with sweat.  He made his way over to their water wagon to rinse off, and noticed that people were starting to drift toward the tables and benches for the competition.

“Well, here we go.”  Grant made sure his armor was fastened correctly, and trailed behind a group from the House Wednesday wagon train.  It looked like everyone was angled with the spectators slightly upslope, with the competitors stage closer to the bonfire.

“As you can all see, this year we intend to complete the entire competition in one night!”  The old woman from House Saturday was serving as the master of ceremonies.  “We have a bonfire prepared, and the competition won’t stop until our next leader has been selected!”  The people still stacking wood on the pile behind the stage gave a little wave to the crowd.  “Any Wielders who wish to represent their Houses in the yearly contest to determine the mightiest warrior and rightful holder of the title Junfa, please step forward!”  The old woman was standing in the center of the stage, and the hush that followed her announcement made Grant’s stomach tighten in anticipation.  He joined the seven warriors that were lining up on stage, and he noticed that his presence was causing more than a few whispers from the crowd.  He chose to stand next to Junfa April, who gave him a nod of greeting.  “Now that the seven representatives have come, we need to…”  She trailed off as her eyes ran over the contestants.  “Eight?  Why are there eight of you?”

“It’s the Wielder from the Spring Districts.  He thinks he can lead April after only being here for less than a month.”  The Wielder who spoke up before Grant could was the one on the opposite side of Junfa April.  When Grant leaned forward to look at him, he could immediately tell it was the son of April Eighth.  “The Spring Child doesn’t even know the rules of the competition, otherwise he would have challenged House Monday already!”

“What is he talking about?”  Grant whispered to Junfa April, ignoring the outraged murmurs coming from the people watching them.  He noted that the crowd was quickly growing beyond the number of available seats, and people were sitting around the pond as if they were on a picnic.  “Who am I supposed to challenge?”

“He is exaggerating, since it isn’t actually a rule, but tradition says only one Wielder from each House is represented.  Since you are a Monday, you should be challenging April Fourth for her position in the contest.”  Junfa April subtly pointed to the woman standing on the opposite end of their short line.  “She won’t fight you though.  The thought of doubling the chances for her House to win probably has her drooling.”

Grant was glad he wouldn’t have to fight the woman.  Her pinched face and dour expression hid a physique that hinted at her prowess with the rapier on her hip.  The House Sunday speaker finally had enough of the growing shouts for Grant to be removed and held her hands up for silence.

“A new challenger has appeared.  While the rules don’t specifically forbid his presence, tradition demands we address this issue.”  The old woman turned to face the end of the row of contestants.  “April Fourth, do you demand a chance to duel this newcomer for representation of your House?”

“No.  I’m more than willing to let another Monday enter the competition, even if I don’t know them.”  April Fourth didn’t even bother looking in Grant’s direction.  “At the very least, we can get some idea of the strength of the warrior in the Spring Districts.”  The speaker took a breath to speak, but she was interrupted by someone else.

“I object.”  April Third, the father of the young woman Grant had defeated in combat, stepped forward.  “I object to an outsider interfering in our traditions, and I demand a duel to measure his worthiness.”  The quiet sigh from Junfa April worried him more than the smug smile on April Third’s face.

Chapter 49

<Seriously, what is with you and House Saturday?>  Sarge seemed more upset than Grant felt.  <I swear, it’s like they just hate you on sight.  Do you have a sign on your forehead that says ‘I hate House Saturday and I dare you to do something about it’ that I don’t know about?>

“It isn’t your place to challenge him, Saturday.”  April Fourth tried to stand up for him, and despite her sour expression, she was really starting to grow on Grant.  “I already turned it down, so back off.”

“You don’t get to decide to have twice as many competitors as the rest of us, Monday.  I think it’s only fair that he faces me.”  April Third hopped down from the stage and the crowd moved back to create enough space for a fight.  “Unless he’s scared, and that would just mean he doesn’t belong here anyway.”

“The challenge has been issued.  How will you respond, young Wielder?”  The old woman motioned for Grant to step forward, his only option obvious to everyone present.  It was either fight and prove himself, or step back and lose any chance of winning the competition.  He could see his friends in the crowd, every one of their faces grim.  The Warden was even trying to signal something to Grant, but he couldn’t figure out what the message might be.  He jumped down and turned to face his opponent.

“Normal rules apply.  No killing, no spells, and no death strikes.  Take your positions.”  Both Grant and April Third moved to the edges of the crowd, and the old woman raised her hand.  “Fight!”

Grant immediately used Iaijutsu and lunged forward with an Oleander Thrust.  His sword was a blur, and he practically floated across the barren rock, his Uchigatana aimed for April Third’s shoulder.  The older man took a half-step forward and met Grant’s sword with the thick blade of his dagger.  Grant could immediately tell he was stronger, but before he could force his weapon any closer to April Third’s body, his lungs stopped working.  He tried to push past his sudden ailment, but the surprise made him lose the strength in his arms faster than it should have.  He dropped to his knees, dropping his sword and holding his throat as he tried to take a breath.

“Never fight with an alchemist who is prepared to fight, Grant Monday.  I hope you like the taste of choking powder.  You ran right into it when you charged me like the foolhardy warrior you are.”  April Third kicked Grant onto his side, and tossed a small vial next to Grant’s prone form.  “Drink that before you die.”  He raised his fists in victory, and walked away.

“Winner, April Third and House Saturday!”  The old woman’s robust voice was like death tolls to Grant’s ears.  He managed to pour the sour concoction down his throat, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was pointless.  He was dead anyway.  All he was doing was extending his misery.  “Now that the seven contestants have been determined, we can continue with the competition.”

<I’m sorry, Grant.  I never trained you to look out for the tricks an alchemist can bring to a fight, or taught you how to fight while holding your breath.  It… it has been an honor.>  Grant took a gasp of fresh air before he could black out, but he lost all motivation to even stand.  Even Sarge had given up hope.  What was the point of continuing to go on?  Maybe he could go back to District January and eat himself to death before his quest killed him.

“Wait.”  Junfa April’s voice cut through the chatter like a Moo-Bee cutting into Grant’s behind.  Even the old woman stopped talking, and everyone turned to look at their warlord.  “Grant Monday, stand, and show them.”  She held a hand out to help him to his feet.  He looked at her with confusion written plainly over his features.  She tapped him between the eyes.  “Show them your title, and end this farce.”  Finally, it clicked.  Grant opened up his options and switched his name from Grant Monday to Earl Spring.

“Earl!  He’s an Earl?  What foolishness is this?”  April Third’s outburst ignited shouts for an explanation across the entire plateau.  “How could he be Earl Spring?  Have all the Spring Districts truly fallen so far?  It doesn’t matter anyway.  He’s already lost to one of us.  There is no way he will win.”

“What’s an Earl?”  April Eighth's son finally asked what all the people in the crowd wanted to know.  “What kind of a title is that?”

“It means Grant Monday is the Lord of the Month for all three of the Spring Districts.  You are looking at Lord January, Lord February, and Lord March, all at the same time.”  Junfa April leapt back up on the stage after answering him loud enough for everyone to hear.  “That means he automatically is qualified to join our little contest.  Now, can we get on with it?”

Her announcement was met with stunned silence.  In a District where the most powerful measured their ages in centuries, his obvious youth shattered more than one strongly-held belief.  There were more than a few voices in the crowd that called for him to withdraw anyway, considering he had already lost.  Grant chose to ignore them, and rejoined the line on stage, taking his place next to Junfa April.

“Yes, well…”  The House Sunday master of ceremonies cleared her throat.  “I guess this year we have eight contestants.”  She waved her hand to indicate the space between the stage and the pit for the bonfire.  “Let’s start off by our contestants proving if they have the skills to defeat the beasts of the fields!  On to the first round!”

Grant followed behind the others, who spread out enough that they could empty their storage bags filled with the bodies of dead beasts.  Grant had to be careful to pull out all of his personal items first, to make sure they didn’t get lost under the pile of monsters.  When he tilted it over and dumped out all the weight that had been dragging him down for almost a month, he could swear his back and knees let out a little cry of relief.

Stepping back, Grant could only feel pride at the huge pile of beasts he had collected in just one month.  The giant Greenlock made up a large portion of his stack of bodies, but there were plenty of other creatures to show he could defeat any number and variety of monstrous opponents.  Then, he finally looked over at the others, and his heart fell.

“Look at that, folks!  Can you believe what House Wednesday has done this past year?”  Junfa April was still emptying bags of monster parts, and her pile was already three times higher than Grant’s.  And it was made entirely of parts, not whole monsters like his stack.  The others were at least twice the size of Grant’s showing, but no one came close to Junfa April.  “It’s no surprise that the House that specializes in hunting monsters won this one, but congratulations are owed to all of our contestants!”  She pointed over at Grant’s feeble attempt.  “Even the new contestant has an impressive amount for a single warrior.”

Her comments did little to raise Grant’s spirits.  The puddle of old blood forming under the remains of thousands of monsters was quickly spreading over the ground behind the stage, so the master of ceremonies motioned for them to stop emptying their storage bags.  It was obvious who had won.

<Don’t worry about it.  All you needed to do was get enough monsters to give a solid showing.  Getting through this round was the goal, remember?>  Grant couldn’t help but feel that all his hard work over the last month was all a big waste, but he conceded that Sarge was right.  At least he made it into the second round.

“Now it’s time for everyone’s favorite part.  Contestants, you will be called up in random order to brag about your accomplishments over the last year.  I hope you know how to spin a yarn!”  The master of ceremonies took a step back and motioned for a man with eight slips of paper to come forward.  He placed them in a bag, and she leaned over and plucked one free.  “First up is none other than House Saturday!  April Third, please join me, and regale us all with tales of your adventures!”

Grant tuned out the voice of his opponent and focused on what he was going to say when his turn came up.  What kind of a competition was based on how well they could brag about their adventures?

<It’s actually genius.>  Sarge’s voice broke his train of thought.  <Think about it.  If your entire culture is built around the heroism of its leaders, that means they can’t just stand back during battle.  They have to step up and protect their people, and then be eloquent enough to talk about it afterwards.  It means they must be both brave, and intelligent.  I wonder who came up with the idea?  Clever…>

Grant let Sarge get lost in his thoughts while he focused back on the competition.  April Third had finished talking about his advancements in alchemy, and the Wielder representing House Sunday was taking his turn.  He was a craftsman instead of a healer, and talked a lot about finding a new way to make the suspension on wagons and chariots better.  The crowd seemed suitably impressed, but Grant knew he could beat him with just his battle against the Greenlock.

Next was House Monday, and she briefly described a running battle across the plains with a group of some kind of thorn-covered plant monsters.  They must have been pretty nasty, because even that short story had the people roaring in approval.

Then, it was Junfa April’s turn.  When she went up, he wasn’t sure what to expect.  What he got was like a punch to his gut.  She stole his story.

“When I was passing by the western border, I came across a Wielder from District March.”  She looked over at Grant and gave him an encouraging smile, somehow unaware of what she was doing to him.  “Little did I know, it would be one of the best decisions I could have made to save him.  Because when we came to the stronghold of the Greenlock, he and I worked together to kill them all.”

Grant listened to her finish the tale, the whole time seeing his short life pass before his eyes.  The same person that saved him by telling Grant to show his titles, was the same person to ruin his chances of getting through this part of the competition.  She finished her tale and walked over to stand next to Grant.  He was a little insulted that she came to stand next to him after what she had done.

“I warmed them up for you.  Now you just have to go up there and finish it.”  Her smile threw Grant off, and he wasn’t sure what to say.  “What?  What’s wrong?”

“You took the story I was going to tell!”  Grant was having trouble keeping his voice down.  “What am I supposed to talk about now?”

“Oh, you were going to tell the story of the Greenlock battle?  Why would you do that, when you can talk about how you became Earl Spring?”  Grant was stunned.  She grabbed his shoulder to hold him steady.  “You do know it’s a contest of what you did for the whole year, right?  Not just this month.”

“I do now.  Thank you, Junfa April.”  Grant stood up straight, and he felt the smile creep across his face.  “I think I just won this round.”

Chapter 50

And win the round, he did.  Grant was called forward after the House Tuesday told a tale of tracking down a group of bandits that had been infesting the southern region for years.  When he walked onto the stage, Grant had to pause and take a drink from a water skin before he started.

“Let me tell you how I became Lord January.”  He told the story of facing down his former master, and standing up to an ancient Wielder who was all but invincible.  Then he recounted his journey across District February, and how he showed them the importance of taking the occasional day off to rest, and the change his hard work wrought on his body.

After recounting his betrothal to Suki, he told them about how the two of them traveled through the gambling dens and monster warrens of District March, making sure they knew how much he hated the turn-based system the insane Dokeshi March had installed, and how he saved the people from their inevitable destruction through either starvation or monster swarms.  He ended the story with the revelation that he gained the Dao Seed of Change, and the repair of the borders.

When he finally stopped talking, sunset had just fallen.  Early evening starlight was chased away by the flickering light of the bonfire, and Grant stepped down to a silent crowd.  He was afraid they thought his story wasn’t good enough, until the cheers of his friends on Team Three broke the fragile quiet his story had imposed.  The roar of approval that followed echoed across the plains for miles.

<I told you, never give up.  You easily win this round.>  Grant silently thanked Sarge and walked over to where Junfa April was still clapping.  It was too loud for her to actually speak to him, but she gave him a silent nod of approval.

“Next up, we have House Thursday!”  The master of ceremonies had to wait for several minutes for it to quiet down enough for anyone to hear her.  “Please come up and tell us your tale.”

“I’m wise enough to know when I’m beat.”  The House Thursday Wielder only got on stage long enough to concede the round to Grant.  “There isn’t any way for me to top that story.”

“Okay then.  Would you like to take a turn, House Friday?”  The old woman only got a glare in return.  The son of April Eighth was not happy.  “I guess it’s time to move on to the third round.  It’s time to show us what makes you all special, so show off those skills!”  She turned to look at Grant.  “As the winner of the last round, Earl Spring is up first!”

Grant went back up on stage and ran through his attack skills.  He tried being flashy to win over the crowd, so he used his Lightning Attunement to occasionally run lightning across his Uchigatana.  He finished up with a blast of Thundering Step straight up into the sky, to the approval of everyone present.  He could already tell he lost when he saw the smirk on April Third’s face.

The other contestants did their best to stand out as well, and Grant was honestly impressed by the others.  It was clear why they were representing their Houses in the contest.  Junfa April looked like she was going to win at first by demonstrating her beast taming skills with her tigers, but then April Third took the stage.

“I will make a pill that is so powerful, it can bring a warrior back from the brink of death!”  He pulled out a cauldron that was easily twice as large as the one Grant had seen his daughter use.  “Observe, and be amazed!”

Grant watched as the alchemist tossed in ingredient after ingredient.  Herbs, monster parts, chunks of minerals, and more than one tooth disappeared into the concoction.  April Third was using some kind of skill or spell to heat the cast iron, and it glowed a cherry red as he placed a lid on top.  He waved his hands around in a display of showmanship before finally taking the lid off and reaching inside.  When he pulled his hand out, he was holding three pills that looked more like clear crystals than anything else.  The light from the bonfire that passed through them cast rainbows across the faces of the onlookers, causing more than one gasp of amazement.

“And now, to prove it works.”  April Third rolled up his sleeves as he pulled his dagger free of its sheath and plunged it straight into his arm before anyone could stop him.  He pulled it free in a spray of blood, wincing in pain.  “Watch as it heals me almost instantly!”  He swallowed a pill, and everyone watched as his wound closed before their eyes.  “It was a complete success!”  The crowd went wild, their adulation almost matching their support of Grant’s story.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, like it usually does, our three rounds have ended in a tie.  One round to Junfa April, one to Earl Spring, and one to April Third of House Saturday.”  The master of ceremonies returned to the stage as soon as April Third collected his various items.  “You all know what that means.  Winner-takes-all bonus round!”  The thunderous approval shook the stage, and a table with two benches was quickly brought forward.  Grant was confused.  Were they going to fight on top of a table?  “The last one standing, or the one with the most empty mugs in front of them, takes the title of Junfa.  Time ends when the sun comes up!”  A keg of hard cider was rolled out from somewhere, and a tap was thumped into place.  “Get to drinking, contestants!”

<Grant, I think you’re in trouble.>

Chapter 51

An hour later, and Grant was pretty sure he was going to throw up.  Drinking wasn’t something he was particularly good at.  He only had two empty mugs in front of himself, and a third in his hand.  He was pretty sure it wasn’t even midnight yet, but he had drunk enough that even the bonfire seemed to have changed colors.  Red flames leapt into the sky, tinting everything the color of blood.

<I think we figured out the real reason why everyone comes to the Conclave.  They just want to party.>  Grant looked out with bleary eyes across the various tables, where dozens of matching kegs had been set up.  Just about everyone he saw had drank more than he had, and it looked like they were still getting warmed up.  <Maybe when they all pass out, you can snatch some of the mugs from the people who have passed out.>

Grant looked over to see April Third tossing down another full mug.  He seemed to be able to drink as much as he wanted, and nothing affected him.  A stack of seven mugs was already teetering in front of where he was sitting.  If things kept going like they were, he wouldn’t be able to sneak anything because the House Saturday Wielder would be watching him like a hawk.

“He’s cheating.”  Junfa April leaned across the table to talk with Grant.  “I’m waiting for him to get up and go use the latrine ditch before I put the counter-agent in his next mug.  Everything he’s been drinking will hit him all at once, and he’ll need to use another one of those miracle pills to heal the hangover that wrecks him.”  Grant and Junfa April laughed at the thought.  Which is when everything went straight to hell.

“Enemy in the camp!”  April Second came sprinting into the middle of the party, his mace dripping blood.  “There are more of them than I can count!  Everyone get to the edge of the plateau, before we’re overrun!”

Grant was suddenly very sober, and he realized the faint screams he was hearing weren’t sounds of enjoyment.  Suddenly, the red-tinted flames of the bonfire became a terrible warning.  The blood from all those monsters had been above the fire pit, and he had already seen what only a small amount of blood could do when it was burned.  The smoke caused by a fire as big as the one he was looking at would bring every beast here like it was the world’s largest beacon.

“Put out the fire!  It’s drawing them to us!”  Grant tried to stand up and grab the keg on their table, but he didn’t quite have his balance yet.  The lack of familiar weight from his storage bag meant he ended up leaping on top of the table and tripping over the piles of mugs.

<Forget the fire, it’s too late to stop what’s coming.  Get out there and fight!>

“What’s going on?”  The House Thursday Wielder was up and stumbling around, clearly intoxicated.  “This is supposed to be an impregnable location!  Why aren’t the guards and scouts holding the pass?”  His only answer was a Grasstopus that flipped the table across from the stage.  “Oh, Regents.  That’s bad.”

Grant finally got back on his feet, and it was time to stop worrying about what everyone else was doing.  He passed by a few heated battles before he finally caught up with April Second.

“Where is the line the weakest?”  Grant remembered the importance of holding a skirmish line in his lessons on tactics.  If they could keep the beasts from pouring across the top of the plateau, they might have a chance.  “I can help hold it.”

“East!”  He pointed to where the faint light of the barrier lit up the night sky.  “It’s like they are coming through the barrier in droves!”

Grant sprinted for the edge, making sure not to overbalance from the lack of weight on his belt.  He was afraid to use the speed boost from his Thundering Step because of the unfamiliar freedom he was feeling.  Grant might accidentally run right off the edge in the darkness.

<I can at least help with that much.>  His vision was suddenly lit up with the orange outlines of any obstacles in his path, and he could see the edge of the cliff quickly approaching.  As he drew closer, the sounds of battle overwhelmed his frantic breathing.

A cluster of Vassals was surrounded by some kind of canine, and they were struggling to keep from being wiped off the edge of the cliff, the only thing stopping that from happening was the influx of more monsters that made their way over the edge.

“Thundering Step!”  Grant ignored his misgivings, and boosted his speed to ridiculous levels.  He did his best to angle his approach to clip the rear of the circle of enemies, but he somehow managed to plow straight into them.  The halo of lightning surrounding him discharged into the wolf-plant hybrids, and their twitching forms dropped to the ground.  The Vassals took full advantage, and joined Grant in butchering the prone beasts before they could recover.

<Another group is about to be overrun.>  Sarge highlighted another group of shifting shadows several yards farther down the edge of the plateau.  <Do what you just did again.>

Not one to argue, Grant activated his spell again and took off to help.  He made sure to control the halo of lightning so it didn’t shock any of the Vassals he had just saved.  When he slammed into the next wall of beasts, he almost ended up over the edge of the cliff.  The creatures were some kind of ambulatory bush or small tree, which Grant figured had to be smaller versions of the Saprolings they used to make and repair wagons.  Their lighter weight meant he ended up going straight through them, and unfortunately shocking the cluster of Vassals trying to hold the line. It was a difficult fight to protect them while they recovered, but he managed it by using Peach Flower Petal Flurry.  Once everyone was back on their feet, Grant was already off to help the next group.

"Why haven't they pulled us back to the wagons?"  Grant was struggling to catch his breath. Maybe Sarge had been right about the pie.  "We're spread too thin. We need to close up our lines, before exhaustion starts leading to mistakes."

<I don’t see any organization being handled by anyone.>  Sarge highlighted a group Grant had already saved twice.  <They are going to need you in just a little bit.>

As he arrived, it was obvious why he had to keep coming back.  This group was two people short of the normal seven.  There was no way they would hold long enough for him to come back around a second time.

“Fall back!”  Grant used Begonia Chop to slice a creature that was more claws and fangs than anything else in half.  “Hold the line at the first row of wagons!  Wait thirty seconds, and move!”  He didn’t wait to see if they would listen.  Instead, Grant shot over to the next group in the line and repeated his orders.  He kept going, until he reached the last team still standing.  It was the group he had accidentally shocked earlier, but they were more than happy to listen to him when he shouted for them to retreat.  He fought with them as they slowly backed toward the wagons, swinging his Uchigatana the entire time.

“Hold here!  Rotate through your groups, and don’t let them through!”  Grant had to shout to be heard over the sounds of battle, but his orders were quickly followed.  Whether it was from the Vassals naturally taking advantage of the smaller gaps between wagons, or because they could actually hear him, it didn’t matter much to Grant.  Now that they could take a minute or two to catch their breath, they had a real chance of making it to sunrise.  “I’m going to see if I can get us some relief.”

While he was on his way back to the last place he had seen all of the leaders, Grant had to kill several Grasstopuses that had managed to make their way inside.  He could see several people running around with a purpose, but half of the time whatever they were shouting to the defenders was either ignored, or counter-productive.

<This is bad.  Of all the days to have a crisis of leadership, this had to be the one.>

“I don’t care what their problems are right now, if they don’t get it together, everyone is going to die.”  Grant activated his spell again, not willing to waste any more time.  When he finally got to where the leadership had been, he was happy to see someone had put out the bonfire.  That was just about the only good thing, though.

“No, we can’t spare them!  Keep the archers focused on the south, where it’s easiest for them to get to us.”  The sling-wearing April Eighth was shouting in the face of April Third, who was once again redder than a ripe strawberry.

“Don’t think I can’t tell what you’re doing.  That’s where your wagons are!  You just want the most effective forces protecting your own people!”  April Third spun to look at his daughter, April Thirteenth.  “Tell our people to pull off of the eastern line, and reinforce our wagons to the north.”

“That will collapse our forces and kill us all!”  The House Monday Wielder stopped April Third’s daughter from being able to run off and give his orders.  “Are you trying to get everyone killed!”

“No, I’m trying to get this stubborn fool to move the archers from the side getting hit the lightest!”  April Third pointed to where his camouflaged wagons were sitting.  “Do you not see how bad my people are getting hit?”

“I’ll send two teams of my people to reinforce your wagons, but you need to start passing out mana and healing potions to everyone.”  Junfa April had to pause to growl an order to one of her trained tigers as it limped up to her.  It ran off, disappearing between the wagons to the east.  “If you don’t, we won’t have the most capable people holding the line for much longer.”

“Why don’t you just use all those potions you stole from me?  That should be enough to see us through this crisis.”  April Third pointed at the House Thursday Wielder.  “He’s got more of them than I do at this point.  They bought most of my supply before your convoy even got here.”

“Those aren’t mine to give away!”  The House Thursday Wielder looked far more sober than the last time Grant saw them.  “I have shareholders who will demand to see a return on their bottom line, and -”

“What shareholders?  Everyone is here right now.  There won’t be anyone demanding a return on their investments if everyone is dead!”  April Eighth waved his hand not in a sling around himself.  “Do you not see what is going on?”

“Enough!”  Grant stabbed his sword into the rocky ground and used a little bit of lightning to give everyone a jolt.  “If you idiots can’t get it together, this entire District will be devoid of any humans in less than thirty minutes!  Your inaction and squabbling has already cost us lives.”  Grant turned to look at a runner waiting around for someone to give an order that wasn’t immediately countermanded.  “We need two thirds of the archers on the eastern side, or it’s going to collapse.”  He turned to look at April Thirteenth.  “I’ve seen what you can do with your little spoon.  Get yourself and all your Vassals on top of your wagons, and act like archers.  You don’t need to be precise.  There’s enough beasts out there that it’s impossible to miss.”  Finally, he turned to look at a man standing next to the House Thursday Wielder, wearing the same colors.  “Start passing out all of the potions you have, starting in the east and working your way clockwise.  Make sure everyone gets at least two health potions and one mana potion if they want it.”

“If you think I’m going to listen to you, before I get orders from my own leader, you have another thing -”  His head hit the ground, and his body soon followed.

“We don’t have time for this.  All of your infighting and refusal to listen is why this District has more beasts than humans!  If you don’t listen to me, and you only want to save yourself or your own people, I’ll kill you myself.  What part of less than thirty minutes didn’t you understand?”  Everyone surrounding the House Leadership just stared at Grant with expressions of shock and horror.  Grant let loose with another blast of lightning.  “Now!  Run, and I better not see you slacking!”  His shouting broke them free of their shock, and suddenly everyone was sprinting.  He looked at the Wielders still standing there.  “The strongest fighters are just standing around.  Find a place where you can do some good, and help.”  He turned to leave, ready to rejoin the weakest section to the east.  “If we can hold out ‘til morning, we have a chance.  Once we can see how many beasts surround us, we can make a plan.”  It finally looked like their defenses would hold through the night.  Which is when a thundering explosion came from the west, and splinters from a destroyed wagon flew through the air like a wave of angry hornets, wounding dozens of fighters.

<Oh look, the boss finally showed up.>

Chapter 52

“It’s the Plain Bane!  We’re all gonna die!”

Grant didn’t know who shouted that, but he was having a hard time arguing with them.  The pale blue figure that strode into their defenses was over thirty feet in height, twice as tall as their biggest wagons.  His vision lit up with information about the monster, courtesy of Sarge.

Miniature Giant Ice Wraith (Sealed Autumn Creature)

Freezes on touch. Resistant to all forms of physical damage.

<This is bad, Grant.  That creature shouldn’t even be in the Summer Districts, and most especially Early Summer.  However it got here, your only chance is to take it down with coordinated spell attacks.>

“It’s resistant to physical damage.  We need to hit it with as many offensive spells as we can, otherwise it’s going to wipe us out.”  Grant looked back to see everyone frozen in fear.  Junfa April looked like she had seen a ghost.  Grant didn’t think he had ever seen her so pale.  “I’ll do what I can to slow it down, but you guys need to get as many spellcasters as possible together, and get them to hit that thing with everything they’ve got!”  He didn’t wait for them to answer.  Grant activated Thundering Step and ran straight for the monster so terrible, it shouldn’t even be there.

Actually getting to the Ice Wraith was harder than he expected.  A bunch of other beasts had flowed in the gap it created in their defenses.  Anything that brushed up against it was frozen solid, slowing down those trying to come in from behind.  He managed to fight through, not bothering to check and see if the creatures he knocked aside were all the way dead or not.

While he had been distracted, the Ice Wraith had continued to kick the stationary wagons like an angry child giving the boot to piles of toy wooden blocks.  It had already worked its way southward toward the House Wednesday wagons, and Grant recognized the next wagon it punted with enough force to turn it into a bomb.  The water inside the Warden’s water wagon froze around the Wraith’s foot, causing it to stumble.  It started to stomp up and down, trying to break the offending ice free.  The ground rocked like there was an earthquake, and more than one warrior couldn’t manage to stay on their feet.

“Thundering Step!  Thundering Step!”  Grant used his spell twice, once to speed himself up and once to load up his sword with extra power.  When he finally got to the creature, he managed to slice the hamstring of the foot that was holding still.  His Uchigatana only dug in a few inches, barely drawing blood.  The lightning spell did far more damage.

Grant lost the ability to hear for a moment.  The Miniature Giant Ice Wraith’s roar of anger rattled his brain inside his skull, and he dropped to one knee a few yards past the monster.  The freezing cold made it hard to catch his breath even this far away.  To make matters worse, his hands were frozen in place around his Uchigatana.  The bone-deep ache of holding his sword made him desperately want to drop it, but his skin was stuck to the wrappings surrounding the hilt.

“It doesn’t matter.  I have to keep going.”  Grant slowly got back to his feet, and turned to face the Ice Wraith.  He didn’t have the breath to shout his spell, but it activated anyway.  This time, he held it all in his sword and sprinted as hard as he could, aiming for the same spot.

When he hit, the cut made an ‘x’ across the back of the Ice Wraith’s leg.  His spell discharged into the small wound, and the backblast of the energy knocked him onto his butt.

<I think you stunned it this time, but I have bad news. Grant, if you do that again, I’m afraid you are going to do more damage to your hands and wrists than a potion can fix.>

“How bad are we talking?”  Grant struggled to stand, the cold punishing his limbs.  At least his ears were used to the angry screams of the monster.

<You will snap them off like a pair of dry twigs.>

“Well, what am I supposed to do to kill this thing?”  Grant looked up, seeing the impossible height of the beast he was supposed to bring down.

<It isn’t possible, not as you are now.  Give yourself another three or four months of hard training, and you could kill this thing as easily as a Moo-Bee.>

“Doesn’t work for me, Sarge.  I’ve got to take this thing down.”  Grant set his feet, readying himself to go for another round.  “There is no way I’m letting this thing kill everyone.”

“That’s the spirit, cobber!”  The voice of April Second so close to him made Grant jump in surprise.  “Didn’t mean to scare you there, mate.  I saw you struggling a bit, and I decided to come give you a hand.”

“I appreciate the help, but maybe you should get back.  I’ve got an extra speed boost, remember?  You don’t have any offensive spells to use against this thing.”  Grant took half a step in front of his friend.  “I know you wanted me to run if this thing showed up, but since I can actually hurt it, maybe you should be the one to make sure there is still something left behind.  If I can’t kill it, of course.”

“Know what?”  April Second hefted his mace.  “I was wrong to ask you to stand aside.  It wasn’t fair of me to put that on you.”  The two of them had to dance backward to avoid the stumbling Ice Wraith.  The stun effect of Grant’s spell was wearing off.  “How about we let some other poor sap worry about what comes later, and you and me put a hurtin’ on this oversized ice cube?”

The two Wielders dashed forward together, this time Grant stabbing at the heel he had been working over.  The tip of his sword only penetrated another couple of inches, even when he used Oleander Thrust.  Pulling his sword free tore off the skin of his left hand, and his right was completely frozen around the hilt.  Oddly enough, he didn’t shed a drop of blood.  A quick inspection revealed it was because the blood in his hands was frozen solid.

While he had been stabbing the heel, April Second had used his mace to smash the center of the creature’s foot.  He made a solid blow, but it didn’t do any more damage than Grant had managed.  Grant noticed his friend struggling to back away from the foot, and helped him get back.

<You stunned it again.  There is probably only a few seconds until it recovers.>

“Did… did I ever tell you my name?”  April Second was struggling to talk, the cold air somehow harder on him than it was for Grant.  “Not my title.  The name I was born with.”

“No, you never have.”  Grant looked him over, trying to make sure he wasn’t about to fall over dead.  “I’ve always just called you April Second.”

“Well, I should correct that.”  He flexed his hands, trying to loosen up the stiffened joints.  “My real name is William Leap.”

“You were a Leap?  So was I!”  Grant felt excitement bubbling up in his chest.  “Have you ever heard of the ‘Leap Sorcerers’?  What was it like growing up in District April as a Leap?  Were they mean to you too?”

“I’m sorry we don’t have more time to talk, cobber, but it looks like this icicle with legs is waking up.”  William lifted his mace over his head.  “Shall we try this again?”

“One more time.  I can do this.”  Grant couldn’t use his left arm, so instead he placed his forearm across the back of his blade to give it more support.  “After you.”

They rushed forward, Grant headed for the heel, William for the toes.  When they got within a few feet, Grant noticed that the monster wasn’t shaking from his stun anymore.  It was holding perfectly still, waiting for them to get close.

“Wait!”  Grant shouted for his friend to stop, but it was too late.  The cold surrounding the Miniature Giant Ice Wraith slowed William down too much for him to dodge, and the beast kicked forward, catching Grant’s friend full in the chest.  All he could do was watch in horror as his friend was shattered into frozen fragments like a life-sized statue of glass.

“Nooo!”  Grant’s shout of denial didn’t change anything.  His friend was gone, his light snuffed out like it had never been.  “Thundering Step Thundering Step Thundering Step!”  Even though he knew he couldn’t control it, Grant activated his lightning spell three times.  The power that slammed through the blade of his Uchigatana made his teeth vibrate and his vision blur.  Grant did a double slash as he cast his spell, holding the created barriers in the shape of an ‘x’ that mirrored the wound he had caused on the Ice Wraith’s heel.  For his final spell, he stabbed forward where the two lines met, using the power of his thrust to propel the crossed spells almost straight up, directly for the monster’s stupid face.  They hit the Ice Wraith like a magical uppercut, lifting the huge creature off of the ground a few inches and knocking it flat on its back, crushing two more House Wednesday wagons in the process.

Using the three spells drove a spike of pain into Grant’s head, and when he opened his eyes he was face-down on the ground.  He got to his knees, using his hands to help him stand.  The lack of any pain from his hands was a bad sign, but not one that he was worried about at the moment.  The Ice Wraith was still down, and the other Wielders with spells were doing their best to keep him that way.  Their help came too late to save his friend, but maybe it would be enough to let him avenge his death.

“Hey, ugly!”  Grant’s shout caused the monster to look over at him while it held its hands up to block the incoming spells from hitting it in the head.  It gave Grant the perfect shot.  “You killed my friend.”  He lunged forward, aiming right for the eyeball of the monster staring at him.  Even laying down, Grant could only reach the eye closest to the ground.  It was enough.  He stabbed deep inside the Wraith’s eye socket, allowing his right arm to sink in up past the elbow.  He felt a moment of resistance as the tip of his blade passed through the skull at its thinnest point, and he turned the blade sharply once he knew he had hit the brain.  It snapped his frozen arm off three inches above the elbow joint, and Grant passed out onto the ground next to the creature that he never should have been able to kill.

Chapter 53

When Grant finally woke up, he wasn’t sure if he was still alive.  He was laying in a soft bed, surrounded by white sheets that billowed in the breeze.  The complete lack of pain made him think he was probably dead.  For just a split second, he felt relieved that his quest was over.

<Not yet.>  Sarge’s voice in his mind ruined any notions of giving up.  <Although, it would be great if you could get me out of here.  I’m still trapped inside the head of the Ice Wraith.>

Grant used his Time is Space sword ability to bring his Uchigatana into his hands.  He had to do a double-take, because somehow there were two of them.  He distinctly remembered losing the right one when he killed the monster.

“You can thank April Third for that.”  Junfa April broke the illusion of Grant being somewhere else when she walked into the tent.  “He volunteered one of those fancy pills to heal you when the dust settled.”

“Why would he do that?  I thought he hated me.”  Grant sat up in bed, and tried to stand.  He quickly realized he was naked, so he gave up on it for now.

“April Third was worried about what would happen if the Plain Bane returned.  When his worst fears came true, you managed to kill it, relieving him of the thing haunting his nightmares.”  She looked down at her feet.  “And saved us all from my inability to see what was right in front of me.”

“That’s not fair to you, and you know it.”  Skor walked into the tent, gently moving Junfa April to the side.  “There is no way anyone could have predicted the way things turned out.”

“It was my job to predict exactly the things like that.”  She let out a defeated sigh.  “It doesn’t matter.  It’s not my problem any more.”

“How are you feeling, mate?”  Skor changed the subject, looking over at Grant.  “Ready to get back on your feet?”

“Sure, as soon as someone brings me some clothes.”  Grant paused before looking Skor in the eye.  “How many more did we lose, besides William?”

“From our House?  No one I think you would know.  Almost twenty right now, but a few more might not make it to evening.  Their wounds are worse than even yours were.”  He squinted his eyes in pain.  Just because Grant didn’t know them, didn’t mean Skor didn’t.  “From the whole Conclave, I would say close to two hundred.  April Eighth was killed by something that likes to squish its prey.  Probably a python of some kind.  That House Thursday merchant disappeared sometime in the wee hours, probably grabbed by a creepy-crawly that we missed in our sweeps.”

“That’s… worse than I wanted, but better than I expected.”  Grant wasn’t sure how else to say it.  The situation was bad, but it could have ended with everyone in a beast’s stomach.

“Usually how it goes, with things like this.  Now, let me run and grab your things.  You have an important engagement to make.”  Skor turned and hurried off, and Junfa April pulled the flap closed behind him.

“I want you to know that it was unanimous after everyone saw what you did.”  She straightened her spine.  “Everyone with even half a brain could see you deserved it.”

“Deserved what?  What are you talking about?”  Grant was confused.  Did they take a vote on who got the magic pill that heals almost everything?

“You are the new Junfa.”  Her words hit him like he was the recipient of one of his Thundering Step spells.  A weight he didn’t even know existed lifted off of his shoulders.  “You ended all of the bickering that was keeping us from doing anything, and everyone saw what you sacrificed to kill the ice giant.  You are the unanimous decision for Junfa this year.  Probably the first time ever no one has bothered to argue about it.”  She turned to leave.  “I’ll perform the ceremony as soon as you are dressed.”

He sat in silence while he waited for his clothes.  Thinking about what to do for District April had him lost in his thoughts, and he didn’t bother saying anything when Skor came back.  Getting dressed only took a few minutes, and he was standing on the stage, surrounded by the people who had voted him into power, in no time.

Junfa April made a speech about Grant’s accomplishments, but he didn’t hear a word of it.  He desperately wished to see the familiar face of William Leap to be among those watching.  His absence made this moment feel hollow.

Eventually, Junfa April handed over her whips to Grant, who accepted them with as much grace as he could muster.

Do you, Grant Monday, wish to absorb the power of April First 1: Sonic Whip? Accepting Sonic Whip will override any previous Wielded Weapon power absorbed in the current monthly series. If not overridden by another weapon of the same month, this ability will return to its current Wielded Weapon at the end of the year, unless the quest ‘Heal The World’ has been successfully completed.

Accept / Decline

“I accept.” Grant agreed to the notification, and his sword glowed a faint blue.

Sonic Whip: Swinging your weapon with the proper finesse will accelerate it to incredible speeds. The more precise the attack, the more damage it will cause.

Yellow motes of light drifted off of Junfa April as the Fragment slowly moved to join with its new owner.  They settled onto the top of Grant’s head before gently pushing into him.

Quest Update: Heal the World (Legendary)

Congratulations, Grant Monday, you have defeated the Lady of the Month, Lady April, and have been granted her Fragment.

1) You have inherited the power of the Aprilian Fragment of Focus, the ability to strike down any enemy with a single blow while within the borders of the District once every thirty day period.

2) You have gained the ability to open the boundary separating April and May by utilizing the Aprilian Fragment of Focus. Each use costs 1 per person. Charge: 99,999/100,000.

3) You have gained the ability to send a message to anyone within the District of April by utilizing the Aprilian Fragment of Focus. Each use costs .1 per message. Charge: 99,999/100,000.

4) You have the ability to switch your name from Grant Monday to Lord April at will.

<Oh, is this a good time to tell you that you leveled up?>  I probably should have mentioned that before.  Congratulations!>  Grant decided to ignore his stat screen, and turn to face his new people.

“District April, today is a day for change.”  The people watching him shuffled their feet, worried about what he might say.  “Last night proved that you all have so many things to share with one another, especially knowledge.  The reason why you haven’t utilized your abilities to the best of your possible levels has been the mentality that it is you versus everyone else.  Each House, each wagon train, for themselves.  That ends now.  You don’t have to stop wandering, but you must be prepared for what comes next.”  It was quiet enough that you could hear a Meatball snort from all the way across the plateau.  “In December, the barriers will drop.  This District needs to be a cohesive society by then.  I am appointing Junfa April as my Regent.  It will be on her shoulders to prepare you all, and I expect every one of you to step up and help her however you can.”

“Are you sure you want me to do that?”  Junfa April was definitely surprised by him appointing her as his Regent.  “I caused all the bad things that happened last night by not seeing what was right in front of me.”

“That makes you the perfect person, because you won’t make the same mistake a second time.”  Grant handed back her whips before pulling out his sword and cutting a hole open in reality.  “I’ll return at the end of the year.  Make sure you are ready, because last night is only a warm up for what comes next.”  Grant stepped through the opening, and disappeared before anyone tried to stop him.