I had a bit of spare time, so I decided to experiment with a concept that tends to be poorly-done by many, which is making Jaune go evil for a variety of reasons. Most seem to go under 'got kicked out of Beacon', 'got rejected from Beacon', and 'just 'cause' which didn't really appeal to me or sound very in-character, so I instead went with another idea which I hope sounds more reasonable, if a bit long.

This is either going to be a twoshot (it was a oneshot at first, until I started breaking in 16k words), and it'll mostly be covering how he loses his innocence and then his turn to Team Crime, instead of the impact on canon, but it'll be a pretty long one, so that'll be good enough. I'm hoping to show the transition to be relatively in-character, along with some sense of world building.

BTW, there are also some headcanons that I'll be using from my other fic, 'Rearranging the Board', but not so much as to limit reader's experience with this story if you haven't read it.


Jaune Arc always wanted to be the hero, the kind of guy who saved people and fought monsters. Not because he wanted to be famous, or because he wanted to live up to the family fame, or to redeem family shame, but due to the mere fact that he wanted to be one of the people who did something about evil, the kind of guy who saw injustice and moved to stop it, using his might to make things right. It was something that the Arc family did for generations, and Jaune would have been more than happy to continue that legacy on.

Unfortunately, he was a failure.

He took a bit longer than other aspiring combat school students to decide to be a Huntsman. Before, he was happy working in law enforcement, the military, or even a Reclaimer, fighting to take land back from the Grimm (even if he never told his mother such things), until he read all about the Huntsmen and how their sole purpose was to protect humanity and serve as a shield against evil. Law enforcement lacked the excitement and times of peace made a military career boring, and Jaune didn't think he'd be great with drill sergeants, while Reclaimers didn't always come back...right, if they ever did.

That shouldn't have meant much, his parents were happy to help him train, as were a few of his older sisters in similar career paths, when he was the son of Philip and Marie Arc. Only, after it was combined with a failure to improve one bit despite the training, Jaune found himself failing his attempt at getting into combat schools of any kind, and even he knew that the first year was the one who had to try and get in by. After that, the standards only increased, due to nature of a Huntsman's mission, and Jaune could never reach those standards.

He trained and trained, trying to hone his abilities, to little avail. His last chance to reach a junior combat school, before he would be too old to qualify, failed as always, meaning that the odds of him getting into Beacon was the same as him dating the Pumpkin Pete's girl. For all the training and effort he put in, it wasn't enough for him to be sent with the others, while those who made it were off to sign forms and get on the path to being a Huntsman or Huntress. To be the heroes that fought for their lives, overcoming the odds and making their parents proud.

Jaune, on the other hand, could expect to disappoint his whole family, however much they hid it.

He looked around and could see that everyone else seemed to be equally bummed out as well. From the ocean of sounds, Jaune could hear people share his worry about letting their families down, people talking about going into the military, law enforcement or some other job, and even a few people grumbling about losing out on money, power, fame and sex. He found that those last sorts were far and in between, and that he was almost happy that they didn't get in.

If only he wasn't stuck with them. The examiners probably took one look at him and thought he was the sort to try and coast on his name, or that he expected the weapon to make the man, rather than the other way around, as their thoughts turned to how sad that someone finally managed to stain the Arc name, or that he was more De Rais than Arc. Now, Jaune could go down in history as the first male Arc in a hundred years to contribute nothing of value to the world.

Lost in his own internal loathing, he didn't notice that the small group, left in a room for others to come into without any surveillance, had turned silent for some time. It was when he finally noticed that only one voice was speaking, assuming it was an instructor telling them to go home, that he listened and tried to get some idea of what was being said. Upon seeing that the figure, with chestnut hair flowing down to his ears and a stubbly beard covering the lower half of his face, in contrast to bright emerald eyes, Jaune realised that the casual clothing was nothing like the teaching uniforms of the instructor.

The navy-blue shirt and yellow trousers, making the guy indistinguishable from any person outside of the testing building, only made his words seem even weirder to Jaune. "-for years now, he's been rallying his men and waiting for a chance to take back the homeland from the usurpers. He's gone to all the kingdoms, rallying people there who care about justice and heroism, where the governments don't want to risk rocking the boat."

"I thought King Rasputin got executed because he went mad with power." Someone piped up, from the other side of the room, sounding a bit sceptical. "Why the hell do you want someone like him back?"

"King Dante isn't like that traitor." The guy replied, sounding offended at the comparison. "First off, Rasputin deposed House Virgil from the throne of Palate, and second of all, King Dante knows what it means to have power and the cost of it. He had to spend three years in the Grimmlands, just to survive and find one of his only living relatives."

The Grimmlands? Jaune knew about them, to the north-west of Vale, on a continent that most looked like a dragon, the Grimm still held strong and was where most battles between human settlers and Huntsman against them used to be carried out. Very few human settlements truly prospered, only serving as a last hideout for criminals, and the desperate, hoping that the authorities wouldn't come after them. Humans preferred the south, where some food could be grown, but warlords enjoyed the barren nature of the north, where no one would challenge them, once they set themselves up.

If someone managed to live there for years, they'd have to be pretty tough."

"Why are you even here? What do you want with us?" A girl asked, nervously, and to the anger of some, owing to her ram horns. The Faunus applicants were all in a corner of the room, their numbers deterring bullies, only glares and suspicious looks remained as strong as ever.

"It's simple. You all wanted to help people." That got Jaune's attention. "You lack the high standards to become Huntsman, and you all must have felt that you could do more than protecting the law, or serving in a military that has not needed to fight a war in decades. All of you, in the last chance to become such, saw your fingers barely touch the idea of becoming Huntsmen and Huntresses before it vanished. Some of you aren't going to say yes, but this is your chance to become the heroes you've always wanted to be.

Palate is sick. Its rulers claimed to fight for all, but are now oligarchs, fattening themselves on the people who trusted in them, making a few extra Lien while our people are buried under mines and eat scraps off the floor to survive. Good men have seen their deaths come early, and monsters have taken their place, as even their children are forced to become servants of the new regime, no more than slaves to fat oafs who care for nothing.

King Dante is not fighting for a golden hat and chair, he isn't fighting because he wants everyone to cheer his name. He's fighting because no one else is, pain and suffering is looked away, the weak are being abused by the strong, and he isn't going to sit by and wave it along, and neither am I. I worked in a factory, before all of this, before some government goon replaced me because I didn't kowtow to their intimidation. My family is still there, waiting for someone to save them, as are thousands in Palate, and I'm asking you all to help them."

"You're asking us to die." Another rejected Huntsman said, Jaune snapping his head towards them. "You asking us to go north so that we can die in some ditch, all for some guy we don't know."

"What did you think you were doing before?" The recruiter asked, his confusion clearly faked. "Did you think you'd go to school, learn a few things, and then blondes with giant chests would descend to suck on your dick? No! You wanted to be a Huntsman, I'm guessing, because you wanted to be something greater than that. You wanted to know that you're part of the solution, an antidote to the poison of suffering, a guiding light for the people of Remnant against the darkness. I assumed I'm talking to people who want to become heroes, not just people who want to be called such."

He looked at them, something close to desperation in his eyes. "Am I?" He asked, almost looking Jaune in the eye. "Am I talking to people who care about right and wrong? Or have you all decided that a single failure is all it takes to rid you all of your belief in a better world?"

Jaune wasn't the bravest of people.

Jaune wasn't the most inspiring of people.

Jaune even knew that a lot of movies made better speeches than that guy.

So when he stood up, feeling a strength he never knew he had in him before, and silently indicted his support for the guy, Jaune was almost uncomfortable with how many people seemed willing enough to stand beside him. Some probably might not have done, were it not for how quickly he did so.

The recruiter seemed ecstatic, telling them excitedly of where they should go and at what time, about how they would meet other people like them and how they would be remembered as people who did the right thing and not the easy thing. For the first time in a long while, Jaune actually felt as if he was in control of his life, that he wasn't chasing some fantasy in the hopes of being like his ancestors, that he was actually going to be the person he wanted to be, instead of being stuck with the person he was.

He should have cut off that bastard's head, let his family starve on tens of thousands of Lien. Who knows how many lives he might have saved with that.


"'Schnee Company Defence Training', huh, I didn't think they were aiming for people at your age." Philip Arc said, reading through the poster he had been given, Jaune sweating heavily in the fears that his dad knew what he was planning. His fears skyrocketed when Dad looked at him grimly. "I know I mentioned private sector work, but I don't think someone your age sh-"

"It's not actually stabbing and killing." Jaune assured, pulling his hands up. "It's more just getting training and keeping peaceful demonstrations from getting violent. The thing does take place in Atlas, and there might be a few extensions to it, along with some added programmes, so I am going to have to leave home."

Connections with a few SDC sympathisers had helped in getting the leaflet made, and it helped that such programmes already existed, so there was no reasons for his dad to think that Jaune was doing anything but that programme. He already knew that his dad wouldn't go for 'hey, mind if I go and join a Foreign Legion to save a nation from tyranny?', so this seemed like the better alternative. Lying may be bad, but so was not fighting evil, so it all balanced out anyway.

"Well, this would have happened, if you got in and went on to B-" Dad stopped there, Jaune not happy about being reminded about his failure, even when he had this new opportunity. "You can go on the programme. It'd even be good for you, to get your leg into the door like this, taking the initiative yourself. A lot of people do well in this kind of market, just ask Amber, if you ever want tips, and you'll still be helping people." He said, putting a hand on Jaune's shoulder, as he always did during these kind of talks.

"Yeah." Jaune thought of the battles ahead, the risks that he was taking by doing this. "It's a bit scary though." He admitted, knowing that his dad was imagining his son thinking of other things.

"Leaving home, even for a short while, always is." Dad said, before he broke out into a laugh, patting Jaune's shoulder. "Look on the bright side. You'll get to see new places, meet new people, and even make a few new friends. Me, I'm stuck with trying to find a way to pay for getting those stains out of Liz's walls. I swear, that girl is grounded until her children's children are off on adventures."

"I think I'll be happier going off on an adventure." Jaune loved his sisters, but they didn't exactly make for great conversation when they were grounded, always going on about doing this and that, which just left Jaune completely confused.

Dad sighed before smiling again, the two of them looking like a mirror-image of the other, outside of Jaune's hair being lighter than the elder Arc's. "Yeah, that's what I thought, when I left home. Here's a tip from a professional, try to avoid losing any eyes, ladies dig the eyepatch until they try and take it off, then it's impossible to get any p-"

"I think Jaune doesn't need to hear that." Jaune's mother said, coming in from the kitchen to the living room, streaks of grey next to brown hair doing nothing to make her look less pretty. She looked up and down at Jaune, as her eyes began to water and she pulled him into a tight hug. "My baby boy, all grown-up."

Please...no. I don't want be killed by a hug. Jaune begged, saved by his mother letting go before he suffocated. "Don't worry, I'll send a message through the Communication Tower as soon as I get there."

It'd be something about how nice the ice-fields of Atlas looked, as he already checked on his Scroll, to detract suspicion away from what he was really doing.

"Make sure you do, otherwise you'll keep your mother and Joan up all night." Dad warned, motioning his eyes towards his wife, signalling that it was something he didn't want to go through.

"It says here that some ships will be staying a few days in Palate," His mother said, taking hold of the leaflet and narrowing her eyes, showing very little approval. "If they need to go by boat, they can at least try to avoid potential warzones. It's bad enough with the White Fang, but-"

"Don't worry, Marie. Jaune'll be fine, he's an Arc, after all." Dad assured, even if he seemed less sure of himself now. "He's got a few tricks up his sleeve, just as he does with the ladies."

Jaune laughed with them at that, safe in the knowledge that his secret was not discovered. The whole family was there, on the night before he would take the journey of a lifetime, as everyone congratulated him, telling him that things were going to be great, and Uncle Jack had almost made a few of his famously dirty jokes, before the collective female glare forced him to go for something softer. Jaune felt confident, knowing that he was leaving as someone who found an alternative to places like Beacon, that he could return to his family as a hero who saved a nation.

Sleeping had never been easier.

He should have told them the truth. That he was approached by a man preying on those who lost their dreams, tricking them into signing away their lives and to throw it all away for the ambition of a single man. They'd be upset, but not with him, and then he might have saved everyone. Maybe even her.


The train to the docks had been an interesting one.

A lot of people had turned up, all with the same purpose, all having created stories to cover it up, and almost numbered at a few hundred. Most had been from Vale or Vacuo, but there were issues with the Mistral group and a few had to come with them. Nothing serious, just accounting errors, from what Jaune overheard. Even then, the mood across the carriage that Jaune found himself in had been nothing but cheerful, especially when it turned out to be the type of train with a bar, not that Jaune drank.

That said, the carriage he was in was more than a bit crowded. After his luggage had been taken, the Restoration Movement promising to cover him for what he couldn't bring like Scrolls, all he had was Crocea Mors and his guitar, which still made it very difficult to navigate his way through the crowd without some apologies being made to people. Everyone seemed willing to talk to each other, forming groups and the like, but the groups were developing walls and Jaune quickly guessed that those outside groups weren't going to have an easy time finding seats for the journey.

"Hey man! Can you play that thing?" A voice cried out, deep and booming, smashing its way across the carriage and getting Jaune's attention. "Blonde guy, we're talking to you!"

"There's a seat in it, for ya!" Another voice added, this one higher-pitched, but still recognisably male. From the dark-skinned arms waving at him, Jaune could guess that he was from Vacuo, and that it seemed legit enough to not be some kind of trick to steal his beloved guitar from him, which helped to push to towards moving towards them. "Alright! Now we can get a band going."

"You guys." A third voice scolded, this one female, although it sounded like she was in on the joke.

Jaune made it to the group, seeing that there was indeed a spare seat for him to place himself down on and make his home for the next few hours. A small cheer from them seemed good enough for Jaune to guess that they weren't bullies of some sort, even if the one with the deep voice looked more than a bit intimidating to him.

The guy towered over all of them, looking about seven feet tall, and the bald hair made him look even older, especially going by the thickset jaw and scars all across his eyes, nose and cheeks, complementing the thick sapphire-coloured armour that covered his whole body. Even when covered by such armour, Jaune could tell that the guy was ripped, muscles coming out everywhere, and his whole stance suggested that he had been a fight or two hundred, looking to be in his mid-forties.

"Don't worry, kid. David here isn't as scary as he looks, unless you hear him sing." The other guy chuckled, before offering his hand to Jaune. "Name's Ch-no, it's the other way around here-Jet Chan."

Jaune shook his hand and couldn't help but notice the contrasts between the two. Where David was tall and muscled, Jet was small and lean, with shining brown hair and a smile that ladies loved to go crazy over, already sinking Jaune's chances of finding a girlfriend. David had armour built for war on, while Jet was in the same casual clothing that everyone but Jaune and David seemed to have, and David seemed near the middle of his life, compared to Jet who looked only a few years older than Jaune."

"Jaune, Jaune Arc." He replied, taking the hand and shaking it, hearing the gasp from the girl too late.

"Are you related to the Arc family?" The girl asked, sounding more nervous than before. "Sorry, that was rude of me. My name is Hecta, it's a pleasure to meet you." She said, offering her own hand to Jaune.

Jaune had just met a really pretty girl. Her hair was black and kept in a ponytail, probably to keep it from sweeping down to her shoulders, and it somehow worked with her eyes that looked more like green gemstones than eyes, while her whole body seemed to suggest that she had gone to some sort of combat school before joining the Restoration Movement. She had the cutest button nose and her whole poise somehow managed to show confidence and humility, with the red and gold dress skirt she wore, leaving Jaune to try and remember the advice he was given about girls.

Women love confidence, show barrels of it and they'll be leaping at you.

Just be yourself, Jaune, and don't give up. You'll find that special someone.

Jaune, you have to make a few changes, when going after a girl. No offence, but you come off as a bit much for some girls.

It doesn't matter what you do, but remember that no means no. Got it?

Some girls change their minds, you never know who else'll be going for her.

Try and show her what's special about you, like the guitar!

Avoid the guitar, you need lyrics and yours are...not that great.

Go big, Jaune. What's the worse that'll happen?

Jaune, I'm eight.

Yeah, he was stuck.

"Um, Jaune. Are you listening?" Hecta asked, looking a bit worried, as Jaune realised that he had been daydreaming for a while.

"Uh oh. Be careful, Hecta, this one's a player." Jet warned, smiling deviously from his seat next to David, looking at Jaune and Hecta next to each other, specifically Jaune. "If you think she's cute now, wait until she sings. She's like Weiss Schnee-level."

"I am not." Hecta insisted, shuffling into herself, as if trying to make herself look smaller. "I was a member of Sanctum's choir, before I had to miss the last year due to an injury." She admitted, shuffling her shoulders as he told her story to Jaune.

"She almost won a tournament, until some chick cheated to beat her." Jet added, rolling his eyes.

"Pyrrha is a lovely girl," She said, putting her hands up, trying to push the very idea of this Pyrrha being a jerk away. "I thought I was about to hit her, but my arm must have been gone weird, since the only thing I hit was myself in the foot. It wasn't anything like cheating."

"That's too bad." Jaune said, finding the courage to speak up. "I tried to get into combat school, and I failed a lot. A whole lot. You guys are probably going to get weighed down by me, during this whole thing."

"Relax, man. It's not like we're going to be forced into the frontlines, we've got a month to train and David's already volunteered to help me and Hecta out. No reason he wouldn't do the same for you." Jet pipped up, almost way too eager for Jaune to join the three of them.

"It's no problem, though if we're going into story time..." David said with a growl, while the smile suggested that it was more how he talked, instead of him being angry all the time. "I'm basically a mercenary, pay me x, you get y dead Grimm and/or bandits. I don't take contracts to the Grimmlands, but I'm fair game for protecting nomads outside the kingdoms. This whole job pays really well, so I decided to join in."

"Pay?" Jaune wasn't upset. He knew that there would be guys and girls in it for the money, but he didn't know that the Restoration Movement would go as far as to hire individual bounty hunters, instead of just the standard companies.

"We're all getting paid, though I'm in it more for the 'saved a nation from tyranny' fame myself." Jet said, pointing to himself. "There's a reason that we're getting on the same boat as a bunch of company drones, we get dropped off, we retake Palate for the Restoration Movement, and we get to see happy people give us money and fame."

"I just wanted to help people." Hecta said, sounding almost scared to say so. It was probably for the same reason that Jaune wanted to keep it quiet, to not sound like some naive little kid.

"Come on, don't say it like it's something to be ashamed of." Jet teased, ruffling both of their hair. "We're the greedy bastards." He pointed to himself and David, as he said those words.

"You do know that they have room for instruments and weapons, right?" David asked, pointing to Jaune's guitar and Crocea Mors. It was only now that Jaune noticed how barely anyone had a weapon or armour on them, and that no one else seemed to be carrying personal stuff like his guitar.

Jaune stuttered, trying to find the right way to make it sound like he wasn't an idiot, before Jet spoke up again. "Don't worry about it, that guitar helped get you this seat, rather than next to the rummies. Now we can finally get that band going."

"Band?" Jaune was confused.

"Yeah, David on drums, you on vocals, Jaune here on guitar and me on the bass." Jet listed, before he had a strange smile on his face. "We'll be up to our necks in chicks, all hot and bothered from being liberated."

A sound broke the mood. It was laughter, but there was nothing funny about it, when it sounded more like a scoff than a chuckle and seemed to be directed at the four of them instead of trying to laugh with them. The source of that laughter came from the other side of the carriage, just a few feet away, where there was an empty table, and the only one sitting there was a man wearing a large black duster and a large hat that covered his face. Jaune would have called it a farmer's hat, were it not for the black leather that it was made up of.

Jaune was confused and it looked like Hecta was as well, only for Jet and David to appear less than happy with the interruption, the former speaking up. "Something funny, man?"

"No, just remembering a funny joke." The man replied, sounding in desperate need of water, even if his stance said otherwise. He motioned his arms, pointing to everyone in the carriage, and not moving from his spot. "Anyone here from outside the Kingdoms? Not just the big four, even the little ones, like our destination?" He asked, Jaune getting the weirdest feeling that he was being watched, even when the guy had his vision covered.

No one spoke up, merely remaining silent, as the man chuckled again. "That's what the others said as well." He said, before standing up and stalking away, people in the carriage shuffling back to give him room.

"That guy creeps me right the fuck out." David said, taking the words right out of Jaune's mouth, before a more festive spirit began to return to the group, and the carriage as a whole. "We got a few hours to kill, so let's see who we're going to be fighting with."

Jaune didn't have a lot of friends, his sisters got most of the crowd with them, so no one tried to bully him, but he found that he had a hard time getting to know people and his antics tended to have people move away from him, rather than get closer to him. So it was kinda nice to talk with David, who lost his parents and had an axe that could only change in size, Jet, who left home and probably wasn't going to be welcomed back there for a while, and Hecta, who missed out on her final year and was hoping to do more to add to it.

They didn't even laugh at him when Jaune admitted his numerous failures, his hopes of becoming a hero like his ancestors, and even his fears that he was just going to cut and run. They just listened and they all managed to joke around, his early worries and shyness melting away, although the alcohol might have helped out with that. Jaune felt a confidence he thought he lost years ago, the feeling that everything was going to be absolutely fine, the feeling that he was going to become the man people deserved him to be.

If he wasn't too creeped out by the guy in the hat, that is.

He should have listened to that Reclaimer. He knew what things were truly about. People didn't care about restoring the throne, and they weren't going to welcome a mixture of mercenaries, dropouts and stupid little kids as their saviours, no matter how many of them were deluded into thinking that they were actually doing something important.


Jaune was in the second wave, meaning that the battle had been won by the time he and the others even landed.

For a whole month, on a group of freighters that were picking up the rest of the Foreign Legion, Jaune had been training with the others and honing his skill until he was an actual competent swordsman. He could go a few rounds with Jet's morningstar-shotgun combination, last a few minutes against Hecta's spiked pike, even when it turned into a shotgun, and not get destroyed by David's axe. All in all, Jaune was almost fine with the constant turning and sea-sickness.

It didn't stop him from kissing the land, when he finally reached it. Free from the horrors that was boat travel, to the amusement of his group, now officially a group instead of just practically being one, along with a dozen others. Jaune could hear the sounds of cheering from afar, the enemy supposedly breaking lines or surrendering on the spot, either because they saw the other ships or the chance to rise up against the oppressive government.

The trip to the town itself was fun, everyone was drunk on victory and wanted to get actually drunk as well. Even groups like the Faunus divisions, normally avoided and vice versa, managed to avoid much anger, when everyone was happy with the fruits of victory and lack of death involved in gaining it. Only one thing really made things uncomfortable.

That was the guy with the hat, known as Crow-Eye, who had decided to keep an eye on Jaune for some reason. He had lost an eye somehow and had decided that Jaune and his group were worthy of his attention, meaning awkward staring sessions for the entire trip to Palate, and a constant fear that he was going to find a way into the locked-room where Jaune and other guys slept. It didn't help that, despite apparently being in his mid-thirties, he looked twenty years older, and that was when you ignored the way that his whole face look stretched out.

Halfway through the celebrations, Jaune having had a few drinks, he was finally cornered by the man, to his fright.

"H-Hey." He greeted, hoping that he would somehow get out of this without weird stuff happening to him.

"Relax, I'm not going to kill you, or do weird stuff to your butt." The man assured, looking down at Jaune as if he was some kind of science experiment, especially after Jaune's face collapsed into shock at how his mind was read. "I can see these kind of things. You have to, when surviving the Grimmlands."

"The Grimmlands?" Jaune asked, his face turning white, realising just how dangerous this guy might have been. He tried to look away from the eyepatch, getting a creepy feeling from it, when a hand grabbed his face firmly and forced him to look at 'Crow-Eye' right in the eye.

"Wanna hear about how this happened?" He asked, not needing to explain what he was talking about.

I don't have a choice, do I? Jaune mentally said to himself, preparing to give that very reply, when the man began to talk straight away.

"A goldmine during a recession got a lot of people interested, especially when it wasn't that far north of the place. People got to thinking that it was just a few Ursa Major that they'd have to fight, that things like the Ratking were long dead, until they met the QuothRaven." His eye glowed with a horrific combination of excitement and horror, more two completely different men reaction, than a single person. "A lot of people joined up to kill the thing, thinking that a coalition of miners, mercenaries and adventurers could triumph. Most of them died taking it down, and the survivors scattered with what they had. I ended up meeting a certain warlord who didn't like us waking it up. Naturally, bones had to be broken and both transport and half of my sight was lost, as he thought I needed a lesson."

Jaune had a hard time seeing anyone survive in the Grimmlands, let alone someone missing an eye and with broken bones, forced to walk all the way back. "How d-"

"I survive?" The man replied, his eye gleaming with excitement, as Jaune kept on trying to figure out how he could read his mind. "I don't even know how I did. Maybe I'm hallucinating now and this is my death dream, or I'm dead and this is some kind of hell. Either way, I had a little something that got me through all of that, enough to land me back into some kind of civilisation, where I healed up and got my revenge."

"Revenge?" Jaune felt like an idiot, but it was better to be an idiot that to remain quiet. He wasn't so dumb as to deny this guy his interactive audience, the idea sounding like a way to die without doing anything of value in Palate.

"That's how you survive. It's not about what you love, that's how they get you to the light, giving you paradise. It's what you hate, the stuff that got you there in the first place. You let the hate linger and drive you forward, through all sorts of horrible stuff, until you get it and make sure it doesn't make you hate again." The man proclaimed, Jaune barely able to listen, before the man took the chance to ask a question. "You wanna know how I survived the way back?"

He guessed that the name 'Crow-Eye' was because he killed the QuothRaven, but as he looked carefully at how the man's face seemed to stretch towards the leather eyepatch, a much darker idea came to mind. "N-No. No, I don't."

"Smart boy." The man said, with a demonic smile, before he dramatically turned back and began to walk back to the celebrations, not even looking back as he waved and spoke. "Ask your girlfriend about Auras, and tell a guy with a golden badge that your last name is Arc. It'll help in the long-run."

Jaune was left feeling confused by that last command, standing right there and having been given some kind of lecture by the guy who was definitely insane. With more than a bit of speed, Jaune headed straight back to his group, to talk with them and drink with them and generally have a good time, although the advice lingered in his mind, worming its way into his brain until he finally asked Hecta about Aura. The next day, upon having his apparently-impressive Aura unlocked, Jaune moved on to telling men with gold badges his last name, confused about what it meant.

That advice saved him, Hecta helped him unlock it and his training bloomed real results. Not enough to match them, but enough to avoid dying in some dark ditch, choking on his blood and crying for his mother, cursing the fool he had been.


"My great-grandfather and my grandfather rode with your grandfather, against the Ratking." King Dante said, pouring a glass of wine for himself, Jaune having already declined it. "The former died in the Court of Maggots, to be avenged by your grandfather, may he rest in peace."

Jaune wondered how many people knew guys with eyepatches. His father, the creepy guy with the hat and eyepatch, and now King Dante Virgil himself, all seemed to have a single eye, for the same reasons. Losing an eye to a fight, it was something that made Jaune nervous a lot, but there seemed to be a few differences between Dad's and King Dante's, such as a lack of scarring on the latter and the many medicine bottles he carried with him.

He didn't bat for the other team, recalling how a younger him play-gagged when his sisters gossiped about which Achieve-Man was the cutest and how dreamy it would be if they married one of them, but he could see why some girls would go for King Dante. He was only five or six years older than him and, without his notoriously large and spiky helmet, there was a fair amount of chestnut hair that ended at the upper quarter of his ears which went well with the young face, only the sheer authority and strength in his expression gave off a mature vibe.

When he was asked to meet with him, Jaune swelled up with pride and fear, the two emotions still battling it out.

PathMaker, the name for King Dante's drill/mini-gun combo, was placed to the side of the wall and all of his generals were eyeing Jaune up, as if performing some kind of ocular patdown to see if the one before them was anything like the rest of his family. Jaune didn't even know why he followed Crow-Eye's advice, said crazy dude now lying on the wall and smiling, only he had done so and was now being told about how good friends his family and the Virgil House were, and how much he appreciated the support.

"T-Thank you, Your Majesty." He said, proud at the insinuation being made. "I just want to be the same kind of man my family's always been." He said, shyness overriding any sense of confidence.

"Your father's side, I hope." Dante replied, holding his glass up, and then raising his free hand, after Jaune froze up in fear. "I was just joking. We all know that you are nothing like what the De Rais had become, you would not be here otherwise. I merely wanted to know if you knew that people will soon know about the Restoration Movement, and many with stakes in the status quo will not appreciate our cause, however just it may be."

Jaune nodded, forcing himself to make it obvious that he was doing so, but not so much as to attract the disdain of the generals in the room, all of whom seemed to be judging his every move. Some had been kicked out of their jobs, whether after House Virgil was deposed, or after the High Council took charge, and others were newly reaching their positions, and they seemed wary of Jaune being let in here, and he had no intention of giving them reason to confirm suspicions.

King Dante began to speak, motioning to the map of Palate on the table, long enough for the whole party to see. "We must finish this quickly, lest our enemies rally forth and try to cut us down." He said, looking to everyone on the table, only Jaune had the feeling that this was more for his benefit. "Seven cities must be taken, and all must be ours by a year's time, at the longest. We risk intervention from other nations, and not to support our cause, and I fear that too long shall sap the morale of the Foreign Legion."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jaune was curious as to why a private in the Foreign Legion needed to be told this, as if he could really contribute anything towards the discussion, and his whole presence in the meeting felt forced, as if it were made for someone else's benefit.

"As you know, we are based in the western ports. If we're to maintain our supplies, and cut off the enemy's, we must first seize the coastline to make our regime the one people trade with. From there, we simply move inland to take the rest and overthrow the usurpers. Crow-Eye shall be involved in the northern campaign, under the command of General Hansel, alongside the Faunus Legion and half of the Royalist Faction, alongside a few of the Foreign Legion, yet he specifically requested that your unit be moved away from him, instead to the south. Knowing your heritage, I agreed." The King responded, motioning to Crow-Eye, who merrily waved to them.

"My heritage?" Jaune had an idea of what he meant, it was just that he didn't like to think that it was true. "He mentioned being a Reclaimer, but why does that matter?"

"Your orders have been given, it is not yours to question." One of the generals snapped, a women with a stern expression and tied-back grey hair, who didn't seem happy with either Jaune or Crow-Eye's presence.

"The general's theory is correct, yet I know better than to let mystery and suspicion dominate." The King cut in, cowing the general. "Crow-Eye has a power that may offend one with a bloodline dedicated to ensuring that the enemy of old does not have much a power, even if it manifests in a human."

"I don't get it." Jaune said, only half-lying. Crow-Eye must have been infected with a Grimm's blood somehow, and it had given him powers, at the cost of some of his sanity.

The question was, why was the King letting him stay? Did he have something to add? Was there a larger plan in motion? So many questions were rushing into his head, it almost made Jaune dizzy from it all.

"It doesn't matter, I'm sure you have a good few nights ahead." King Dante waved off Jaune's worries, passing him a drink from some other flagon. "Enjoy them, for you'll be riding under my banners personally, after that."

"T-Thank you so much." Jaune stuttered, before taking a drink from the cup, feeling his mind calm itself, and the questions didn't seem to matter as much as they did before. "I won't let you down." Jaune vowed, mentally praying that he wouldn't.

"I know." The King said, before motioning his arm to the door. "Take good care, Private Arc. I wouldn't forgive myself if I saw someone like you die."

Jaune did in fact leave, and he managed to rejoin his friends in the barracks, taking his leave from the administrative building that served as a general headquarters for the Restoration Movement. Hecta seemed worried, while Jet and David managed to get her to back off after the initial questions were answered, and everyone seemed to feel like celebrating some more, with rumours that they would be striking out again in a matter of days.

His mind woozy, Jaune wondered about if he should have been more open about his suspicions, before that thought was buried in his mind. He had faith that King Dante knew what he was doing, and he decided to let his fears be buried under the partying mood that everyone found themselves in, especially after Jet revealed that they did have the instruments with them now, giving their little band something to do.

He knew. He knew that the QuothRaven survived, that a part of it remained in that Reclaimer, that it could destroy thousands. All in the name of taking back some family legacy, one that he killed his own family to keep control of. Jaune should have tried to kill him somehow, but he was weak, and thousands died because of it.


Jaune's optimism was restored, and reached new heights at Stonefort.

"Welcome! I bid you welcome, Your Majesty!" Warden Shieldcrack, although the giant belly and bulbous, sagging face suggested that he saw little combat at all, had taken the smart path. His balding head, with only a few patches of black left, rolled as he spoke, and his black eyes were near-impossible to tell, were it not for rumours that they were just contacts to cover-up an albinism.

None of it mattered, however, when it became clear that there would be no killing after all.

Before, Jaune had begun to experience doubt, the last few battles had seen him gain his first injury and his first kills. The injury had been in the neck, from a stray swipe of a sword, that might have been worse had his Aura not immediately prevented the wound going beyond a bloody cut, and another had been a bullet straight at his side, the bullet thankfully going right through him. The pain was enough to make him see white, and then black.

According to Jet, who now sported a scar across the left cheek, it had taken David to drag him and Hecta away from the frontlines, the Mistral girl having gained multiple wounds herself. Casualties were still minimal, however it was only due to the medical supplies they gained, owing to the Northern Campaign's success in seizing the navy and the lack of a blockade, which Jaune was always thankful for.

The whole group waited at the medical zones, large carriers serving as mini-hospitals for those classed as ready for combat again in two weeks or less. David was the worst-off, a wound to the leg as he saved them, something that would permanently impact his mobility, and Jet had ended up with the facial wound, taken when helping storm a watchtower. Jaune was always afraid of hospitals, only his fear of another wound in battle, destined to be more fatal, made things that much darker.

After that, as the Southern Campaign struck at a canal, containing a fifth of the drinking water for inland Palate, Jaune had been more cautious. He got himself a helmet and all of the four agreed that at any point that they wasn't fighting, they'd have their shields up and stick together to be ready for any attack, the four managing to create a solid unit that could withstand the enemy's attack. With the use of his and Hecta's Aura, even Dust grenades were nothing too bad for them.

Jaune's first kill had been in the second battle, blocking an attack and thrusting his sword forth, just like he trained. This time, Crocea Mors almost pierced the soldier's body too easily, as if it should have been harder to take a human life than to just poke his sword forward, to snuff out the light in a person's eyes for all time. The adrenaline of the battle had been on him, however, and he simply carried on, blocking and parrying blows before striking again, taking off an arm, or cutting at their chest, until he counted ten people dead at his hand.

"It's okay, Jaune. It's okay." Jet told him afterwards, as Hecta rubbed her hand on his back and held him to her chest, even if vomit, mucus, and tears covered both of their faces. Both of them had no true preparation for what they had done, Jaune knew that the both of them always saw themselves as fighting against the Grimm, instead of taking away human lives, and both were disgusted about how easily they fell into bloodlust during the battle.

"You two need to overcome this." David added, his face more tired than anything else. "If you can do this, you can make it past everything else that's going to happen, but falling is not an option. We all knew that we'd have to do this."

"You're not bad people, guys. Neither were they," Jet said, after getting the two of them to quiet down. "They're on the wrong side. Every single person here is going through this, but we can't go back now, the ships have been turned to scrap and no one is going to help us."

"If we're defeated, we'll be arrested or taken hostage." David warned, as Jaune entered another period of tears and sobbing, in contrast to Hecta managing to overcome her emotions better than him. The thought of such a thing happening might have helped with that.

Jaune did not want his family to see him as a head on a pike, or sent back to them in chains, a liar who thought he was tough enough to be the hero and was just some war-criminal instead. Hecta was the same, although her parents were apparently not likely to embrace her either way, from what the Communication Unit told her, and the two realised that they'd have to kill again, and without the breakdowns after each battle.

A month had passed since then, and Jaune did find it easier to take a life, as had Hecta. It didn't mean that they didn't find themselves troubled by how easy it had become, and Jet was not the type to be open about his feelings, preferring to hide it under a guise of laughter, not wanting any of them to think that he couldn't handle it. David soldiered through it, but a lot of people in the Foreign Legion were like Jaune in wondering whether this was actually a crusade of righteousness, if they ended up just being useful cannon-fodder. If they were fighting a war of conquest, instead of liberation.

Seeing Stonefort, a third of Palete's industrial output, surrender without a fight, and instead with a cheer, gave them a new sense of hope. Jaune felt his faith be reborn in the scene, as hundreds of weapons were pointed at one another and Jaune felt his hands sweat enough to make Crocea Mors slip in his hands.

That had been when King Dante himself rode forward and met the Warden, a member of the High Council that replaced the tyrant Rasputin, to call upon his surrender. His words were eloquence incarnate, reminding the people and soldiers of how Stonefort was a metropolis to behold a hundred years ago, of how things turned to suffering after his grandfather was deposed all those years ago, and that all he yearned for was that peace and prosperity could be for all under his reign.

Shieldcrack looked ready to say no, forcing them to butcher each other again, before he knelt and opened his arms. The gates were opened and the Restoration Movement flooded in, a mad celebration taking hold of the city, knowing that a siege was not to occur and that their rightful ruler had returned, while Jaune and the others were just happy that there was no chance of death, even when the COs told them to keep on-guard.

They were given rooms in the barracks, to stop anyone from deciding to stay when they moved out, but it was at a swanky bar that Jaune began to notice that things were getting a bit cynical, at least for the civilians. The Southern Campaign remained as hopeful as ever, with stories of heroism, even if doubts were beginning to leak in, and some were complaining that there was a lack of reward compared to the stories about the Northern Campaign.

By now, they were already attacking Oceanspire, the last city on the coastline now that Stonefort had fallen, and they needed to move quickly to take down the Cliffhelm if they wanted to show that the government army couldn't win. Jaune was already hearing rumours on how they would be leaving in two days at most, regaining supplies and moving forward to the fortress, in the hopes of either keeping them occupied until the Northern Campaign triumphed, gaining their surrender or defeating them quickly.

"You okay, Jaune?" Hecta asked, looking concerned with him. "Your left arm looks a bit funny."

"Huh?" Trying to find out what she meant, a spike of pain rushed through his arm, causing him to wince. "Ah. Must have sprained it." The loss of the state of fear he had been in, and the adrenaline boost he had before the battle, might have helped in him realising that he might have hit it on something. He could see a small bruise running across his left shoulder.

"I'd have thought your Aura might have healed it enough. You probably got it from training." Hecta said, looking at it closely. She then looked him right in the eye, almost reminding him of his mother, and frowned. "You need to take better care of yourself."

"Sorry, my mind's been in a lot of places." Jaune admitted, almost scratching the back of his head, before the pain in his arm forced it down.

"Just keep an eye on it, we don't have much time until we move out again." Jet said, pointing east and tuning his bass guitar, having managed to get it from the Storage Unit, now that there was to be no battle for some time.

Silence reigned for a few seconds, before Jaune spoke up. "We could win it, you guys. We really can win this war."

"Maybe we will, maybe we won't. Best to let other people do that, and concentrate on staying alive." David said, almost sounding like he was getting scared at Jaune's words, as if they were a curse on future success. The swordsman never knew that the mercenary believed in stuff like jinxs, but there it was.

"Yeah, I'm not losing my guitarist, or my vocalist to this war. We're going to need to get home somehow." Jet added, throwing an arm around the blonde.

"What do you mean?" Hecta asked, staring at the man from Vacuo as if he was about to reveal some great secret.

"Come on. The pay's decent, if you signed the right forms, but we're going to have to wait for shipping routes to open again, make sure we get all of our crap together, and even buy the stuff we need to live. By the time, the ship home comes, we're kind of screwed, unless we can make a few Lien, and then who'll Mr and Mrs Arc be greeting?" Jet asked, shrugging his shoulders and strumming along the bass.

"Come again?" It was now Jaune's turn to be taken by surprise by what he was hearing.

"David's mercenary career's fucked, Hecta's parents are leading the damn peace organisation and have disowned her, for all we know, and my parents..." An awkward silence took over, before he spoke up again. "Yeah, they don't approve of certain parts of my lifestyle. So I thought you'd have our backs."

Joan and Amber had moved out of the family home, in favour of their respective careers, so there was technically room for the three of them. That said, part of Jaune's worry when getting home was that he'd be grounded for life after having lied to his parents about going on some mission of justice instead of the SDC tour they were promised. He sent them a message, but no reply got back yet, due to connections issues. Adding a request to house three strangers might cause them to go ballistic.

Only, they weren't strangers. They were his friends.

"You guys might need to share a bed, and my parents might say no," He warned, not wanting them to get their hopes up, only for Jet's puppy-dog eyes to slowly break down his will. "I'll see what I can do?"

"Awesome, man." Jet exclaimed, taking Jaune's uncertainty for a definite yes. "I told you guys, Jaune always comes through." He added, giving Jaune a few firm pats on the back.

Unfortunately, one such path was right where the bruise was, causing a fair amount of pain. "Owie."

"Jet! You can't just bash someone on the back like that." Hecta scolded, seeing Jaune tumble to the ground and almost hit his head on one of the bunk-bed railings, as the four had made their base in the male barracks.

"You really need to work on your balance, Jaune." David advised, looking down at his teammate on the ground.

"I'll keep that in mind." Jaune replied, before standing up again and looking at the ragtag team that he was a part of.

It was times like these that he thought that nothing could stop them.

There was so much he should have realised. The SDC symbols on the robots given to them, the fact that the guy who owned the land all the mines were on was so supportive, and the fact that that had been the only time Dante did such a thing. It had been an illusion, a way to show that this wasn't just an invasion, that the wide-eyed idealists were right to continue on, and he had just eaten it up, so desperate to find a way to still be the good guy.

Maybe the next month was cosmic punishment for that.