Tycoon May: Chapter 20 (Patreon)

Chapter 20

“That’s all I get?”  Grant was standing in front of a House Monday contribution points counting window.  Bribing the man to even see him had taken a hefty chunk of the Metallica he had collected, but Grant was finally holding a badge that allowed him into the Tier Two regions of cities around District May.

“After the proper registration fee, city taxes, House Monday taxes, and with a lack of mission board assignment fee, you still managed to make it to Tier Two!”  The man gave Grant a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.  “Congratulations!  Most people spend the majority of their lives getting to this point, and you managed it at such a young age.  You are truly a boon to District May.”

“Um, sure.  Thanks, I guess.”  Grant shook his head in disgust.  All the taxes and fees made it feel like the whole system was rigged to benefit those at the top, while all those at the bottom were forced to struggle to meet the minimum requirements for advancement.  “Is there anything else?”

“That’s all, sir.  Please have a nice day.”  The smile dropped from the man’s face, and he slammed the shutters closed in Grant’s face.

“You would think after the bribe I gave him, he would have been nicer.”  Grant turned to leave, firmly focused on his new goal.

After leaving the fancy house near the city center, Grant had managed to find a popular noodle vendor where he could stand and listen to the people around him talk about Tycoon May’s visit while he ate.  It hadn’t taken long for someone to mention that Tycoon May spent most of his time at the capital city, Forteresse Mere.  Now, he just needed a map.  Or, barring that, a guide or caravan headed to the distant city.

<He wasn’t nice because you bribed him before he realized how much wealth you carried.  He could have asked for a much larger amount if he hadn’t misjudged you when you walked up.>

“I guess that’s one benefit of having weak armor.”  Grant looked down at himself and winced.  Even with liberal use of his Apprentice Repair skill, the Late Spring Medium Armor was a mess.  Dents, dings, rents, and tears were all over the place.  He needed to devote several hours to fixing it soon, or it might fall apart when he needed it most.  “Sarge, do you think I should find an inn for the night, or start going on my way toward Tycoon May right now?”

<Once upon a time, there was a young farmer who had a hundred acres of wheat.  The morning when it came time to harvest, he bet his neighbor, a much older man who also had one hundred acres of wheat, that he could collect his harvest faster.  The loser would help the other load up their grain so the winner could take their wheat to market first, which meant they would get the most money for their crop.>

“All I asked was if you thought I should—”

<Close that fly-trap you call a mouth and listen, would you?  I’m trying to impart some wisdom here.>  Grant grumbled a few more complaints, but kept his mouth shut.  <Thank you.  Now, as I was saying, the old man took the bet.  The young farmer practically rubbed his hands with glee at the thought of all the extra money he would make, and immediately grabbed his scythe and started reaping the stalks of wheat.  The old man took his time, eating a hearty breakfast and finishing his other chores before he got to work.>

“That makes sense.  I would like to get a jump on the competition too.”

<What did I say about talking?  This is not ‘use your mouth time’, it’s ‘use your ears time’.>  When Grant didn’t say anything else, Sarge continued.  <Now, at first, the young farmer was far ahead of the old man.  He had ten acres completed before the old man had even one.  But, by the time the heat of the day hit, the old man had reaped ten acres, while the young man was just finishing his seventeenth acre.  Seeing that the old man was catching up, the young farmer redoubled his efforts, even deciding to skip lunch while the old man took a break.>

Grant snorted.  “You’ve made me miss all kinds of meals, you know.”

<Yes, I know.  That’s because you were obese.  Now, can I please finish dropping this enormous nugget of wisdom on you?>  Grant was smart enough to not say anything, especially considering Sarge’s angry tone.  <By the time the first day was over, the young man was exhausted, but he had finished sixty of his one hundred acres.  The old man had only harvested fifty, and had quit as soon as it started getting dark.  Exhausted but self-assured that he was winning, the young man ate a quick meal and immediately went to bed.>

Sarge paused, waiting for an interruption from Grant.  Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Sarge cut him off.  <The next morning, the young man woke up stiff and sore.  Still, he wanted to win, and forced himself to hurry outside and get back to work.  The old man repeated what he did on the first day, despite being behind.  The young man fought through his exhaustion, ignoring the heat and his aching muscles.  But somehow, by the time lunch came around, the old man had almost caught up to him.  He had only ten acres left, while the old man had fifteen.  When the old man went to lunch, the young farmer once again kept going, pushing himself to the limit.  Finally, as the day was about to end, the young man finished.  Thinking himself victorious, he looked over to see the old man already done and waiting for him.>

“Wow.  Big fail.  The younger guy definitely should have eaten lunch.”

<It isn’t about food, Grant.  I swear…>

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”  Grant’s smile was wiped out by a massive orange boulder appearing over his head.  His instincts forced him to roll out of the way, only after realizing it was a projection in his own head from Sarge.  When he stood up, Grant looked down at his even dirtier armor and clothing.  “Alright, that might have been deserved.”

<Anyway, as I was saying, the young farmer went over to ask the old man how he had beaten him, especially with him never taking a break.  The old man held up his scythe, and pointed at the young man’s.  When he compared the two, the young man realized what he had done wrong.>

“Did he have a smaller tool?”

<No.  What the old man had done while taking his breaks… was sharpen his scythe.>

“So, you’re saying I should sharpen my sword?”

<Tell me you're joking.  Please.  Otherwise I’m going to figure out a way to drop a real boulder on your head.>

“Ha!  No, I understand.  Not only was the old man more rested, by sharpening his scythe he was more effective.”  Grant started to immediately look for an inn.  “I’ll take the time to get everything fixed up.  Although, isn’t one hundred acres a lot for just one person to harvest?”

<One.  They were cultivators.  And two, it’s a story meant to teach a lesson.  Stop being so literal.>

“I’m kidding!”  Grant was starting to enjoy his newfound ability to rile up the sword spirit.  “Like I said, I’ll find an inn and prepare.”

<Good.  It isn’t like you’d be able to catch up to Tycoon May anyway.  I have no doubt he can move much faster with his team of well-trained warriors than you can by yourself.>  Grant moved to the edge of the road to let a caravan of six wagons rumble past.  <Joining one of those would certainly help you avoid having to fight monsters the entire time, and keep you from getting lost.  While that might be better for your development, you definitely need to prioritize speed at this point.>

“I’ll ask around at the inn if there are any caravans going to Forteresse Mere.  If not, finding a map will at least let me know what cities are close.”  Grant continued to walk the inner ring of buildings, looking for a likely place to spend the night.  His shiny new badge hung proudly from his belt, marking him as someone allowed to be there.  It almost felt wrong to walk past guards in the open, and he did his best to act natural.

Eventually, Grant managed to find an inn located at the edge of a small outdoor market.  Before going inside, he walked the stalls.  Most were selling produce, once again driving home the point that there was no meat, and especially no monster meat.  It still confounded Grant why people thought it was poisonous.  No other District had such an odd misconception about monsters.  At least, so far.

<Look there.>  A stall tucked back near a narrow alley that Grant hadn’t noticed flashed orange in his vision.  <I think that’s a stall dedicated to adventurers.  It’s your best bet at finding a map we’ve seen so far.>

Approaching the vendor, Grant immediately saw a dozen things he wanted to buy.  There were fire starting kits, various bandages and medical supplies, and several packages that had to be fortified trail rations.  Grant couldn’t hold in the shudder at remembering the disgusting taste of the rations he had suffered through in District February.  Sadness pancakes were something you just never forgot.

“Hello, good sir!”  The vendor, according to a shiny name tag above his badge, was named Martin Koch.  “How might I assist you with your shopping experience today?”

Grant looked over the small stall, pointedly looking at the trail rations.  “Uh, what do you have to offer?”

“Oh, are you interested in our mushroom-based small-batch Fungal Future Foods?”  A spark of excitement lit up Martin’s face, instantly making Grant a little nervous.  “The great thing about our Fungal Future Foods mushrooms is that they are so versatile!  You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it, make mushroom-kabobs, mushroom creole, mushroom gumbo, pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried, and then there's pineapple mushroom, lemon mushroom, coconut mushroom, pepper mushroom, mushroom soup, mushroom stew, mushroom salad, mushrooms and potatoes, mushroom burger, mushroom sandwich.”  He paused to take a deep breath.  “I think that's about it.  Oh, and don’t forget, all foods are fungible, but not refundable!  Buy one—or three!  That’s your choice!”

“Wow.  Okay then.”  Grant took a step back from the intensity of Martin’s gaze.  “How do they work?  Do I just drop them in water or something?”

“Oh no, nothing so mundane!”  The vendor ripped open a package, displaying a chunky powder that was reminiscent of a particularly gray dirt.  “Remember, these are future foods.  First, you open the package, and add any form of organic substance you would like.  That’s what makes them so great.  There’s no food waste from your previous meals, because you use them to make your next meal!”  He pulled a tomato that had seen better days from behind the counter.  “Observe!  I drop in the item, and then I mash it all together before using our proprietary resealable package to close everything back up.”  Martin put action to words, pulping the almost-rotten tomato in the bag of gray dirt before pinching the top closed.  “Then, in less than twelve hours, you’ll have brand new, fresh and tasty mushrooms!”

“So, if I’m hungry right now, I’ll have to wait twelve hours before I can eat something?”  Grant was more than just a little skeptical.  “I don’t know about this.”

“That’s the beauty of it!  If you are hungry now, just think how much hungrier you will be in twelve hours!  Any dish you make will taste that much better!”  Martin could see that Grant still wasn’t sold.  “And for today only, if you buy ten, you’ll get a discount on any other mushroom-based items I have in stock!”

“Actually, I’m looking for a map.”  Grant watched the vendor’s face fall in disappointment.  “But, I could buy ten of those mushrooms from the future if you gave me a discount on the map.”

“They’re called Fungal Future Foods, but okay, you have a deal!”  Martin disappeared behind his stall for a quick moment before standing with an armful of rolled parchments.  “And technically, these are mushroom-based as well.  The parchment is a fibrous blend of a new species of mushroom I’m working on developing.”  He laid the maps on the table, where he tried spreading them out.  However, no matter how many items he placed on the rolled-out maps, they still sprang right back into their curled shape.  “We’ll call it a work in progress.”

“Whatever.”  Grant selected one of the maps that showed the whole District.  It wasn’t as detailed, but it had every city labeled.  “I’ll take this one, and ten of your packets.  Oh, and throw in some rope and a few of those fire starters while you’re at it.”

The vendor was obviously ecstatic about making a sale, and quickly packaged everything up for Grant.  After asking the man for advice about getting added to a caravan, Grant hurried to the inn he had already decided to stay in.  It was apparently the only one on this side of the city, and served as the makeshift location for all caravan guards to wait for a contract to leave the area.

As he opened the door and stepped inside, a heavy hand settled on his shoulder.  “Place is closed, kid.  Move along.”  Grant spun out of the grip to see a man wearing a heavy coat of chainmail, with a heavy war maul resting on his shoulder.  “What, you deaf or something?  Get out of here, before something bad happens to you.”

Leaving wasn’t an option for Grant.  Not only would he be arrested after sunset for homelessness, but this was the one place he could find a way to track down Tycoon May before the end of the month.  Something his life depended on.  Grabbing the hilt of his Uchigatana, Grant prepared himself to use Iaijutsu to remove the man’s fingers where they gripped the oversized hammer.  “I don’t think so.”