Tycoon May: Chapter 35

Chapter 35

The city was much like the first one Grant had visited in District May.  It was mostly buildings of glass and stone, intended to function as greenhouses.  Instead of fruits and vegetables, this city seemed focused on herbs, spices, and various kinds of lettuce.  Lots and lots of lettuce.

<Grant, I think I’ve never seen so much kale in all my life.  The people in District February would have a brain aneurysm if they saw this place.>  He could only silently agree, weaving his way through the streets in search of a place to stay for the night.  <I bet there’s an inn near the gates on the opposite side of the city.  You should start heading that way.>

Not having a better idea, Grant started going that way.  It was quickly obvious that the difference in cities closer to the capital were how strict they were at keeping the Tiers of people separate.  Beyond the major street that ran through the city center, he didn’t see a single Tier Two badge holder mingling with Tier Ones, and the single Tier Three badge holder he saw parted the masses like they had an invisible battering ram in front of them.

“This place is weird.”  Grant stopped to look over a spice vendor's wares, but really just to people watch.  “Why is everyone so divided from one another over something so silly?  I mean, don’t get me wrong.  I definitely need to get a Tier Four badge, but that doesn’t mean I understand why some cheap piece of metal you wear determines the kind of person you are instead of your actions.”

His sword spirit stayed silent while he poked around, and the merchant quickly lost interest when Grant didn’t engage in speaking with him.  He was about to continue his journey in search of an inn when he heard what was clearly a muffled shout and the familiar sound of metal clashing against wood and armor.

Grant hurried down the nearby side street, which emptied out into a cul-de-sac surrounded by loading bays of greenhouses.  In the center stood a lone figure wielding a staff, surrounded by four men wearing the uniform of the guards.  A fifth guard was already on his back, holding his bloodied nose.

“Don’t make this harder on yourself!  You’re already in enough trouble as it is.  Come quietly, and it will go better for you.”  The guards were all holding single-edged short swords that looked like oversized meat cleavers.  “There’s no way out.”

“Wait, is that Doug?”  Grant moved closer, double-checking to see if he was crazy or not.  “No, but it sure does look like him.”

The man that looked like Doug stayed silent, staying in a low stance with his staff held in both hands.  The standoff ended when one of the guards standing behind not-Doug charged him, swinging his sword at the back of his head.  Not-Doug neatly dodged, sweeping his staff low to take out the guard at the shins.  While that guard face planted onto the stones, the other three rushed forward at the same time.

Not-Doug was a blur, dancing between the swordsmen without effort.  He made the remaining guards look silly, forcing them to trip over themselves and each other as he used his staff to deflect their swords where he wanted.

<That’s a guy you need to train with.  He knows his business, and business is good.>  One of the guards was forced to suck in his stomach to dodge a thrust from one of his fellow guards, which put him in line for a punishing uppercut from the end of not-Doug’s staff.  He was knocked out instantly, snoring as he hit the ground.  <Business is really, really good.>

Grant watched as the last two guards were quickly dismantled.  The last guard tried to run at the end, but that just meant he was knocked unconscious more tired than the others.  Not-Doug threw his staff like a spear, hitting the guard at the base of the skull and dropping the man before he could make it past Grant.  He hadn’t killed anyone, and somehow still managed to beat them all without seeming to break a sweat.  Even Grant would have been hard-pressed to repeat such an impressive feat.

The man—now without a weapon—eyed Grant warily, not sure what he was doing there, or who’s side he was on.  While his back was turned, a window behind not-Doug cracked open and Grant saw a glint of light shine off a crossbow bolt pointed at the man.  “Look out!”

Without his staff, Grant knew the man was defenseless.  He activated Thundering Step back-to-back, sprinting with everything he had to give, trying to get between the man and the would-be assassin.  Grant heard the thunk of the bolt being loosed over the pounding of his heart in his ears, and he knew he would be too late.  In a last-ditch effort to save the man’s life, Grant used Iaijutsu combined with Oleander Thrust to give him another ten percent boost to his speed.

Not-Doug had taken Grant’s actions as an attack, and had crouched low with both hands in a ready position to face him.  That meant the bolt would hit him in the back of the head instead of his back, only making things worse.  His eyes widened in surprise when the tip of Grant’s sword bypassed him completely, aiming over his shoulder where the bolt deflected off the blade and narrowly missed hitting him in the face.

“Run!”  Grant shouted at the man, as three more windows were thrown open along the edges of the courtyard.  More crossbows poked out, their owners hidden in the shade of the recessed rooms.  “I can’t protect both of us for long.”

The two of them managed a hasty retreat, and Grant was forced to slash two more bolts out of the air as they left the ambush.  One of the crossbows was poorly aimed, and bounced off of the ground before embedding itself in the unconscious form of one of the guards.

<Whoever that guy is just got fired.>  Sarge laughed to himself as Grant kept a close watch to make sure none of the others had reloaded yet.  When the guard sat up screaming as the bolt in his leg started sizzling, Sarge stopped laughing.  <Those bolts are poisoned.  I’m not sure the guys with crossbows are with the guards.  Most cities frown on their policing forces using things like that.>

Once the man reached his thrown staff, he turned back around to face the courtyard, barely in time to block another bolt.  The heavy bolt ricocheted off to the side, where it was deflected into a rain barrel.  Another quickly followed, aimed at Grant’s midsection as he ran to catch up with the other man.  He easily dodged aside, causing the bolt to go skipping off into the alley.

“While I appreciate the help, I don’t know you.  This isn’t your fight.”  The staff-wielder didn’t look at Grant as he spoke, instead staying focused on the crossbowmen still hiding in the windows.  “If you leave now, I don’t think they’ll follow you.”

<The real question is, who are the people trying to kill him?  Normally, it’s you people are after.  Whatever you do, don’t lose this guy.  For now, at least.>

“My name is Grant.  I was just passing by when I heard the fight.”  The distinct clicking sound of crossbows reloading came from the windows, causing the pair to back up a few more steps.  “I came to see what was going on, and then I saw you lay those guards out.”

“We had a disagreement about whether or not I should be included on a manure run.”  The man quickly knocked aside two more bolts like it was nothing, while Grant deflected one.  A fourth missed them completely, shooting far over their heads.  They finally rounded the corner of the alley, disappearing out of sight from the ambushers.  “The guards thought since I’m a Vassal, I should go, but I disagreed with them.  I’m here for a different reason, and don’t have time for their petty games.  You saw the rest.”

Once the two of them put some distance between themselves and the battle, they started to relax.  Grant realized the man wasn’t going to explain what his reason for being in the city was, so he decided to ask him if they could spar.  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to do some training with you.  It’s hard to find someone with your skills to practice against.”

“Sure, I don’t mind.  It’s the least I can do after you knocked aside that arrow meant for me.  I know a place we can go, where I can show you some pointers.  It would be a good idea to lay low anyway, especially if those people with the crossbows are who I think they are.”  The man stuck out his hand.  “The name’s Chug.  It’s good to meet you.”

Grant lifted an eyebrow in surprise.  “Chug?  Huh.  Is there any chance you know a guy named Doug?”