A/N: Chapter 4! I plan on bringing in a few more familiar faces from RWBY, as well as having a ton of more shit in regards to normal playthroughs of Fable. Usually, I'm the kind of player who will literally complete every fucking quest. But, seeing as this is a 'good' playthrough, a few had to get reworked in a way.

Joan Arc's Legend

Summary: Joan, the youngest member of the Albion royal family, always dreamt of being a Hero like her ancestor, Jaune Arc of Oakvale. She never imagined she'd have to deal with an ancient evil, perverted garden gnomes, or leading a rebellion on top of it.

*Birds of a Feather*

Outside of Brightwall Academy, Joan heard hushed and panicked whispers from the villagers. 'What the hell is going on? Did something happen?'

"Did you hear?" a crate carrier whispered to the baker. "Thomas Kaidkin was just killed! In broad daylight!"

"You mean the painter? But who'd want him dead?" The woman let out a gasp and stopped making her pie, clasping her hand over her mouth. "He may not be the best artist, but he wasn't a bad person!"

"I don't know," the carrier admitted. "But for someone to assassinate him in broad daylight with the guards present…it's terrifying. Makes me wonder if we're next."

Joan bristled with alarm and reached for her sword. 'So, there's a killer running around. That's bad.'

"So, some bastard is going around killing struggling painters, huh?" A gnome let out a bored yawn. "Who cares? Until someone important is killed, I'd say you should ignore it."

"But people are dying!" Joan replied with a hiss. "I can't just ignore this!"

"Your task is to lead a revolution, not go around hunting phantom killers," the gnome pointed out dryly. "Better for you to leave it to the guards, if you ask me. They'll find him."

"This may be a surprise to you, but I don't exactly like listening to your advice," the blonde snapped back, marching down the winding path down into the main square. There, in a puddle of his own blood, was the painter Joan had seen earlier.

Several guards were standing around his body, murmuring to each other as they investigated the scene. "The puncture wound in the victim's chest suggests the killer used a katana. Average size. Samarkand design, by the looks of it."

The guard stood up, shaking his head. "Dammit, what a waste."

The guards dragged his body out of sight, and Joan spotted something lying in the snow. 'What is that?'

It was a wilted rose.

Joan knelt down to pick it up, running a finger over the petals. The flower was soaked with blood, and she sighed. All her life, she sat around the castle. And yet here in front of her was proof that the country's problems ran far and wide.

Joan let the flower drop from her hand, and she proceeded into the inn where Port was waiting for her.

The old man was seated at the bar with a mug of mead in his hand, and he let out a loud belly laugh when he saw her approach him. "Aha! So, you were successful! Bloody marvelous!"

He downed his drink in one large gulp, wiping a bit from his mustache. "You'll be happy to know I found some good information on those mercenaries Sabine mentioned. They're led by a woman named Raven. Do you know that name? I imagine Logan must have mentioned her to you?"

"No." Joan shook her head. "Who is she?"

"Raven used to be a captain in the Albion army some years back, but she found the life of a soldier to be dull compared to that of a mercenary," Port answered. "Strong woman. One of the fiercest fighters I've ever seen. But she deserted and made her way here. Her men are holed up in a small fortress in the mountains, so it won't be easy for you to get in. But, I happen to have an idea."

"Please don't tell me you're going to use me as bait." Joan let out a sigh. "I'd rather not get turned into a meat pie."

"Not at all." Port chortled. "No, this idea will require you to be a sheep in wolf's clothing, so to speak. You'll infiltrate their fortress with a disguise I've prepared for you."

"A disguise?" Joan's curiosity was piqued, and she followed him upstairs. "How did you even procure one?"

She stopped when she saw a naked mercenary passed out drunk on the table. His bare buttocks were stuck up in the air, and Joan covered her eyes with a furious blush. "Never mind…forget I said anything…" 'Bloody hell. I know that alcohol makes people do stupid things, but this might be the worst I've seen.'

Port seemed unfazed by the mercenary's nudity and he handed her the clothes he had taken from him. "He's one of the mercenaries. A coldblooded killer. His name's Clarence, but he's known as Jimmy around these parts. He'd been drinking in the pub all day and was making life unpleasant for everyone. It didn't take long for me to get him completely pickled. Raven would be ashamed of this damn lightweight."

"Did you have to leave him completely naked for me to see?" Joan asked desperately. "I saw parts of him I would have preferred not to." It would definitely take awhile before the image of his limp manhood was erased from her mind.

"You might want to cover your delicates!" a gnome yelled from nearby. "It's gonna be a little cold tonight! Not that you're getting any, but still."

Joan rolled her eyes. 'Looks like he's everywhere I go now. Great.'

"Sorry about that, but it sadly was a necessity," Port apologized, unaware of the irritating gnome that was persistent in following the princess. "Anyway, take his clothes, and you'll have a free pass into their camp. Just try and not think what those stains might be."

"Rather distasteful if you ask me," Klein muttered through the seal. "Still, Port is right. Come back to the Sanctuary to change into it when you wish."

Joan took them, wrinkling her nose at the smell of beer and sex. "Ugh. It reeks." 'These are filthy. Why would anyone want to wear this without washing them?'

"Nothing I can do about that, I'm afraid." Port chuckled. "In the meantime, I'll find out who to talk to about getting food to the Dwellers. They may have not much to spare here, but they're kind people. They just need a little convincing. Good luck in dealing with Raven and her mercenaries. It'll be your first taste of a proper battle, but I know you'll do just fine."

Joan left the tavern behind, and she felt her heart pounding in her chest. Battling hollow men in the Reliquary was difficult at first, but as she progressed she found it getting easier for her. They were slow, clumsy, and predictable.

Fighting against mercenaries on the other hand would be much, much different. They were trained warriors and under the command of a powerful leader. It wouldn't be easy.

But Joan wasn't normal. She was a Hero.

'I might as well change into it,' she thought. 'I really was hoping I wouldn't have to wear anything repulsive on this journey. I should've known better, considering some of the places I've already had to visit.'

She could imagine Klein's face when he saw her in the distasteful outfit.

In the Sanctuary, her old butler was looking at the newly acquired outfit with a frown of disapproval. Currently, it was adorning a mannequin after he took it back for cleaning, and he shook his head with a disgruntled sigh. "Unbelievable. I have to say, it really is quite the accomplishment for a member of the royal family to acquire such repugnant articles of clothing. If I had a gold coin for every bloodstain I washed out of that, I'd have enough to make my own kingdom."

"Please tell me that's an exaggeration," Joan begged. "I'd honestly rather fight in my underwear if it isn't."

"Oh, it is, madam," Klein said with a cough. "But still, these are filthy. Even filthier than those awful bats and the gleaming white teeth…" He shuddered and the blonde bit her lip to suppress a laugh. Even though it bothered him greatly, it was still funny to see how much he hated the rats with wings.

"You mean, were," she corrected with a smile. "You can't be around dirty things without having an overwhelming urge to tidy them up."

"I'm a butler; I keep things clean," Klein defended. "Anyways, you should hurry up and put it on before it develops a mind of its own and walks off."

Joan rolled her eyes but she took it off the mannequin nonetheless and went to the changing area. She quickly put it on, wrinkling her nose. Even those Klein had no doubt done his very best cleaning it, there was still a lingering scent of sex on it.

Still, it was better than fighting naked.

When she was done, Klein gave her a nod of approval. "Very mercenary indeed. You'll fit in quite well with those brutes. Now then, you best be off to deal with Raven. Be cautious; she's more than just a pretty face. One of the finest swordswomen I've ever seen."

"Don't worry; I'll be fine," Joan reassured.

Or at least, she hoped she'd come out alive.

Now that she had left the Sanctuary, Joan proceeded on her way out of Brightwall Village across the stone bridge leading into the mountains. The air was much chillier than it was in town, and she shivered; she wasn't used to the cold yet and probably wouldn't be for some time to come.

But, there was no point complaining about it. Not when people's lives were resting on her shoulders. The weight of responsibility was finally starting to sink in after her earlier conversation with Ozpin, and her shoulders began to feel a little heavier.

'So, this is what it must feel like to have the fate of the country resting entirely on you,' she mused, wishing she had Zwei for company as she headed along the trail through the forest outside of Brightwall.

She heard howling in the distance that could only belong to a wolf pack, and she reached for her pistol. 'Three of them, by the sounds of it.'

Her first encounter with the predators resurfaced, and she shuddered. She'd never forget how close the wolf was to tearing her throat open and leaving her body to rot on the icy slopes; she probably would've been killed had it not been for Zwei. Her corgi immediately rushed to the rescue and helped her defeat them, but today she wouldn't have that luxury. He needed to rest after the trek through the mountains, for he wasn't used to long journeys. It would be another few days before his body was used to the strain.

When the wolves came into view, she pulled out her weapon and crouched behind an oak tree, using it as cover. The predators didn't pick up her scene thanks to her being downwind of them, and she aimed her pistol and fired.

The first wolf fell from a well placed shot to the neck. Its yelp was brief, but enough to get the attention of the other two. They jumped around and saw the young Hero, barking fiercely. One charged with a snarl, and Joan fired right into its ugly face. It dropped in a heap and its corpse slid down the trail until it stopped about thirty feet below.

The last wolf stalked cautiously, being more hesitant about attacking her with its pack destroyed, and Joan took advantage; she blasted it with a Shock spell, frying the creature until it was nothing more than a heap of bone.

She was surprised by the effects the spell had now. "By Avo…"'I just turned a wolf to bones? How? Only a day ago, I was barely able to kill them with two hits.'

The blonde princess looked at her hand as it became cloaked in magic once again. The electric aura did seem stronger than it did before, and for a moment Joan wondered if it was merely an illusion caused by the snow reflecting the light more powerfully. But she soon dismissed that; her powers had in fact grown quite a bit, perhaps to compensate for battling an opponent like Raven.

Or perhaps this was just natural growth for a Hero, without other factors such as a new opponent.

Joan walked past the corpses, turning right to head through the forest that covered this section of Mistpeak. The trees cast their shadows on the ground, giving the whole area a very eerie feel, and Joan couldn't help but feel as though someone or something was watching her every movement.

She glanced around nervously, sure that at any minute a mercenary or bandit would leap down from the trees with a rusty axe in hand. 'I hate this. It feels like someone's watching me.'

"Hello? Who's there?" she called out, reaching for her sword and drawing it. The blade shone in her gloved hand, with several dull runes now inscribed on its length.

However, nothing answered her call but silence and the soft cawing of crows. She watched as the murder of crows flew away in a hurry, leaving nothing but glossy black feathers in their wake, and she lowered her sword. 'I'm just seeing things. Quit acting so paranoid; you have a mercenary camp to seize, and you can't afford to be thinking that an enemy is hiding behind every damned bush in the kingdom. That kind of thinking makes you be like Logan.'

She lowered her gaze when she thought of her brother. Early in his reign, Logan had ruled with a firm but fair hand, never being overly harsh. He would always go on expeditions to faraway lands such as Samarkand and Knothole Island up till about four years ago.

However, he still remained that calm, decisive leader that he was, until the past year or so. The taxes he imposed on the people were rather steep and he handed control of Bowerstone Industrial to a man named Roman Torchwick, whose business practices were very cruel if the rumors were to be believed.

A little sliver of doubt still remained in her mind, even after Logan ordered Yang and the civilians protesting outside the castle to be sentenced to death. She still believed that the big brother she knew and loved remained somewhere within and it was only buried underneath.

But then the music box she retrieved from the Reliquary showed her just how far he had fallen from his former self. His dark eyes were cold in that vision, and the iciness of his tone was enough to freeze any metal, whether it be iron, steel, or even obsidian.

And yet, something about it still seemed off to her. 'In the vision, he said, "I've seen what must be done, and nothing will stand in my way." What did he mean by that? Did he see something from Ozpin?'

Even though he hadn't lied to her so far, she couldn't help but feel as though part of the truth was being hidden from her. What, though, she didn't know.

And she didn't exactly have the time to ponder on that mystery at the moment.

The forest thinned out to reveal the steep cliffside path that led down to a beautiful lake. In the distance on the opposite side was a small fortress, guarded by what appeared to be a heavy barricade of some kind.

'That must be the fortress hiding Raven.' Joan started to make the trek down, stopping to pick up a shiny necklace someone must have dropped. A quick look told her the piece of jewelry was in fine condition, and it would fetch a decent price at the pawnbroker back in town.

Alongside the winding path was another one, this one leading to a rather ominous looking cave with bits of ice protruding from the mouth. A cold and bitter wind howled out of it, and the princess covered her arms and tried to prevent her teeth from chattering as the cold shook her very bones. 'I'm not going in that damn place if I can help it. It's probably full of wolves, bats, and who knows what else.' She gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of the dangerous beasts that probably called that cave home and she was glad the path she was on led her away from it.

The lake's gentle waves lapped at the shore, and she could see more trees surrounding a path that went even further into the region's thick forest. This part of Mistpeak was much more temperate than by the Dweller Camp, and she was thankful for the better weather conditions; nothing was worse than having to fight while being cold.

Her path ended at the shore of the lake, and she could see into its crystal clear depths. Fish darted between underwater rocks as her shadow passed over them, and she wished she had a rod; if she could catch just one or two of them, she could learn how to start cooking for herself. Out in the wilderness, it was a useful trait to learn. She wouldn't always have the luxury of a fresh homemade meal like last night.

The fortress loomed ahead menacingly, and she could make out a single guard atop a watchtower by the gates. 'A sentry. I'll have to take him out before he gets a chance to sound the alarm.'

It meant having to use her pistol, but the range was far too great for her. She'd have to get much closer in order to use it.

To the left of the entrance to the camp was a small incline where racks of logs sat, having been freshly cut down. It provided her with the perfect amount of cover to sneak in. 'Perfect. I can use that to hide and pick him off. I'll only get one shot, so I'll need to make it count.'

She quickly made her way over to the log piles and pulled out her pistol, controlling her slightly shaky hand. She aimed, took a deep breath, and fired. A single shot rang out, and before the sentry knew what was happening, he toppled off from his perch with a bullet between the eyes.

Joan holstered her smoking pistol and came out, jumping onto the small makeshift stone bridge crossing a small portion of the lake and crossing over. Taking her first human life was a much different feel than when she fought the hollow men. Those creatures were undead and mindless.

The mercenary she just killed was alive. It breathed the same air she did, it had a mind, and its heart used to beat. For the very first time, blood of another human was on her hands, and she didn't like the way it made her feel. It made her feel cold and heartless, like the assassin who killed Thomas Kaidkin earlier. 'No, I'm nothing like that assassin. They murdered an innocent man for no reason. I killed a mercenary to protect their victims and myself.'

"Are you thinking about how it makes you feel, madam?" Klein asked. "Port says it gets easier to do over time. I'm not quite sure that's a good thing."

"I am." Joan let out a sigh. "They say only a beast kills without feeling. I'm not sure I want to get used to taking the lives of others." 'I hate it, but it's an ugly necessity. It's better if I don't think about it.'

The blonde stopped in front of the heavy wooden gate. It didn't look particularly tough, but there was no way she could break it down with her sword. 'I have to use my magic.'

Both hands became alive with lightning, and she focused a good chunk of her magical power into the spell before casting it. The bolt of lightning tore through the thick wood, and the gate crumbled with a loud crash. Joan realized how lucky she was that no one else was around; if anyone were in earshot, they definitely would've heard that. "Well…that was subtle."

Still, at least now she had a way inside.

Joan started to make her way through camp, and she passed by cannons guarded by barricades along with another watchtower. No mercenaries were around, but she could still hear gunfire in the distance.

She went in deeper, and she passed by several tough iron cages housing wolves. A lone mercenary was standing guard, and he drunkenly chuckled when he saw her. "Ah, nice to see you again Jimmy. Back from killing some Dwellers? How about we have a pint?"

Joan ignored him and walked past without so much as a blink, sending a silent prayer to Avo that the mercenary was so drunk he couldn't tell that Joan wasn't who he thought she was. 'I never thought there would be a day where I was grateful for alcohol.'

"Aw come on, don't be shy." The man grinned sleazily at her, and Joan tasted bile in the back of her throat. The few teeth that did remain were stained yellow from lack of cleaning them, and his rough face was littered with scars.

He was about as visually appealing as the carcass of a vulture.

Joan continued to walk past him, shuddering as she did, and she was finally within the main camp.

It was guarded by wooden walls that towered ten feet high to block out intruders, and scattered around its perimeter were at least eight mercenaries, more than enough to make her worried as she approached the second gate. Cannons and barricades were around her, and she prayed the two mercenaries guarding the second gate were as drunk as the one she passed by earlier.

The one standing by the wooden shack outside the gate growled and reached for his rusty sword. "We've got an intruder, boys! Get her!"

'I really should've known better than to hope for that.' Joan drew her own blade and cut down her attacker. He fell in a heap, clutching his wounded chest in an attempt to prevent the blood from pouring out. However, his fingers did little to stop the crimson tide, and he toppled over.

She had no time to relish on her victory, as soon she was forced to roll to the ground to avoid a cleaver cutting her in half. Her attacker wrenched his weapon free from the dirt with an angry snarl and he swung it at her again. Joan blocked the blow, using a bashing technique to stagger him. He stumbled, and he let out a gurgle of pain as Joan's sword tore through his leather armor and sank into his chest.

She pulled it free and switched to her pistol; at the moment, none of the six remaining mercenaries had dared to get close to her after they watched her kill two of those who were foolish enough. Instead, they had aimed their rifles at her and were firing angrily, calling her rather deplorable names in the process.

"You damned wench!"

"Dirty tosser!"

"Cheap harlot!"

If it weren't for the fact that her life was in danger, the princess would've laughed.

Joan dove behind a stack of sandbags to use them for cover, occasionally poking her head out to fire a few bullets at her attackers. It was her first good old fashioned gunfight. It felt different from when she used her sword or magic; it made her feel like she was in one of her father's stories about the war to unite Albion into one kingdom.

She was ripped out of her small fantasy by a loud explosion. One of the barrels next to a mercenary had blown up and killed him, and she frowned. 'I was pretty sure I didn't hit that. Unless he did?'

It shouldn't have done that, unless it was filled with some kind of explosive substance.

Like gunpowder.

Joan smiled. There was a way for her to make this much, much easier. Instead of aiming for the mercenaries, she aimed for the barrels. One good shot was enough to cause a large explosion, and she made short work of them, blowing up two at a time with one shot.

"Open the gates! We need reinforcements!" the last one yelled before he was sent skyward.

The blonde turned around as the gate opened, and two mercenaries already had their weapons drawn. They opened fire, and she was forced to hide behind the sandbags again. "Dammit."

She readied her magic this time around, and when she stood up she hit both of them with two blasts of lightning. Their bodies spasmed uncontrollably, and they screamed in pain as they were electrocuted to death.

She winced. It would take a long time before the pained yells of the men she had killed so far didn't ring constantly in her ears.

It was a part of battle she'd have to develop a stomach for.

She pushed past their bodies in a hurry, sword drawn to meet the blade of another mercenary. She slid her blade down and caught it under the handle, yanking it free from his grasp. Before he could even yell in surprise, he fell from a fatal strike across his body.

Two more opened fire on her, and she hit them with two Shock spells. Their skeletons were all that remained, and Joan steeled herself before pressing onward through the camp.

Three mercenaries sat behind a twenty foot wall of sandbags, and the blonde spotted two barrels of gunpowder next to them. 'Perfect.'

She hid behind a tree and fired her own pistol at them. She was rewarded with two loud explosions, and she heard a familiar voice whoop in excitement.

"Whee! Look at the ugly bastards fly!" A gnome on the third inner wall laughed. "How did you know I liked fireworks?"

"Ugh, there's one of you here, too?" Joan rubbed her temples and sighed. "There's really no escaping you, is there?"

"Nope." The gnome's stupid smirk grew and it leered at her. "Not sure I like the outfit, Blondie. Doesn't exactly showcase your assets, if you get what I mean." If the thing was capable of winking, Joan was sure it was right now.

"And that's why I immediately prefer it now." Joan rolled her eyes. "It prevents you from looking under my skirt." 'It's a lie. I honestly prefer having a perverted gnome try looking up my skirt than wear this sloppy mess.'

She would've loved to continue bickering with the immobile magic stone man, but a mercenary ahead snarled at her and opened three wolf cages. The wolves jumped out with angry growls and began to stalk towards her, and the gnome offered its opinion on how to deal with them.

"Kick them in the crotch!" it suggested.

Joan was sure her groan of frustration was heard throughout the entirety of Mistpeak.

The blonde killed the wolves with her magic, keeping a good distance from them as to not let them pounce on her like they did in the mountains yesterday. The mercenary was stunned by the sight of her using magic, and he didn't get a chance to insult her thanks to a bullet to the head.

"Nice shooting there," the gnome complimented. "You're pretty handy with a pistol."

The camp was deprived of mercenaries, save for a lot of noise behind a final pair of gates, and Joan took a deep breath before she stepped in to confront Raven. 'Alright, time to put an end to the Dweller's suffering.'

She was in some kind of arena, with mercenaries standing above her, and in the middle waiting for her was Raven.

The woman was nothing like Joan expected her to be. When Port told her about the mercenary leader, she expected a ferocious warrior with a serious attitude problem to match.

However, Raven was beautiful, with a long mane of black hair and a red and black dress. She seemed eerily calm, even though Joan had just cut a bloody swathe through the camp to find her.

"So," she drawled. "You're the one who has left the impressive trail of bodies. You certainly aren't one of those damned Dwellers."

She turned to her surviving men. "Do not interfere, regardless of what happens. She's mine."

"Get in line!" the gnome yelled. Joan could only sigh in exasperation, reaching for her sword and wishing the stupid perverted thing would shut up. 'Even though I'm about to fight, it's still insisting on flirting with me.'

She really wished she shot it earlier when she had the chance, if only to have some peace and quiet.

Raven leapt down from her perch, katana in hand. "Let's get this over with." The black-haired warrior lunged towards Joan, and the blonde princess barely got her own blade in the way in time to block it.

Just from that attack, Joan could tell that Raven was far more dangerous than anything or anyone she had previously fought. She was heavily trained, fast, and much more unpredictable.

Joan slid back, and she rolled out of the way of a dangerous swipe.

"You're pretty quick," Raven remarked. "If you hadn't killed so many of my men, I'd extend an invitation for you to join."

"Don't you think she's a little young for you?" the gnome taunted. "You gotta be what, thirty two? She's only eighteen, you pervert."

Raven glared in the direction of the gnome, surprising Joan a little. 'She can hear it two? But how?'

The princess took the opportunity to land a pair of quick strikes while she was distracted. Raven stumbled, and she spat in anger. "So, that's how you want to play? Fine by me."

To the blonde's shock, Raven's hand became cloaked in flame and she cast a Fireball spell at her. Joan countered with a quick Shock spell, and Raven smirked at the look of surprise on her face. "Surprised? I may not be a pure Hero like yourself, but magic runs deep in my family's blood. I'm sure you know of Twinblade."

Joan knew of the Hero turned bandit king from the books in the castle library. He was an utter giant of a man and reigned over the southern reaches of Albion with an iron fist, but he was ultimately defeated by Jaune Arc of Oakvale centuries ago.

Once again, the bloodlines would clash.

"And I'm sure you know of Jaune Arc," the blonde countered. 'She's one of Twinblade's descendants. No wonder she can use magic and hear tha annoying idiot.'

"I thought I recognized that prowess with Shock magic," Raven replied with a scoff. "No matter. It won't save you."

"I won't need it to." Joan pulled out her pistol and fired.

Using her reflexes, Raven was able to deflect the bullets away from her, and Joan became irritated. In terms of speed they evenly matched, and right now the blonde couldn't find a way to slow the mercenary leader down.

The two traded blows, occasionally trying to hit each other with a magic attack that would be nullified. However, it was Raven who managed to draw first blood with a quick feint attack to Joan's chest. The princess leaned back to avoid the worst of the blow, but the very tip of Raven's katana cut through the thin leather of Joan's shirt. Blood welled up from the cut, and Joan winced at the sting. 'Dammit. I was careless, and I got hit. I'm lucky that isn't deeper.'

"Don't let that hag get the better of you!" the gnome yelled encouragingly from the sidelines. "Hit her flat chest back!"

"Oh, do shut up," Raven snarled.

Joan felt her blood become alive, and a new green spell clocked her right hand. 'What? What spell is this?' She cast it, and time itself slowed down.

It was the Time Control spell her father once mastered, many decades ago.

This was her trump card. Raven may have been stronger and more trained, but Joan's magic was much more powerful and she could use spells the mercenary leader couldn't. 'NOW!'

With the spell active, Joan began to slash at her. She hit Raven three times in a span of less than five seconds; one across her stomach, one on the inside of her leg, and the final one on her hand. Raven hissed in pain and was forced to drop her sword as she fell, and Joan caught the fallen blade just as the spell wore off, holding them at her throat.

Raven had fallen to her knees, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. "Not bad, girl. Kill me or let me live, it's your choice and my men and I will respect it. We may be mercenaries, but we have our codes like any other soldiers. Regardless, we'll leave the Dwellers be. And that is a promise from one warrior to another."

Joan had a choice to make. Her brother would've cut Raven's head off without so much as a blink of an eye.

But Joan wasn't him, and wouldn't be like him. 'More bloodshed isn't necessary. The point has already been made.'

She sheathed her sword and handed Raven's back to her, helping her up. "There doesn't need to be any more blood spilled today. Enough have died already."

"I won't forget this," Raven murmured, strapping her own weapon back on her belt. "You've earned my respect as a fellow combatant."

Joan nodded, and the mercenaries opened the gates to let her pass by unscathed. As soon as they closed behind her, she was forced to her knees with an agonizing jolt of pain. "AH!"

She labored for breath, holding her side, and when it wore off, the handles of her sword and pistol were more decorated. Both of them had a slight curve to them, perhaps to make it easier to spin them around, and her magic felt even stronger now that she had learned to use a Time Control spell.

However, she was only able to slow it down for a few seconds; she imagined it would take longer before she was capable of using it to affect time for longer periods.

She passed by the gnome and it chuckled. "Not too shabby. Looks like you had both a magic and looks advantage."

"Please stop talking." Joan's temptation to shoot it returned. "Now."

"Come on, admit it already. You definitely got the better rear end."

"What part of shut up do you not understand?" The blonde let out an irritated hiss and reached for her pistol.

"I saw you looking at her breasts."

Joan finally cracked and fired her pistol at it. "Shut up!"

The gnome began to glow, and the blonde stared in shock as it transformed into a handsome man with messy black hair and pale red eyes. A torn dark red cape was attached to his grey shirt, and he wore a pair of black pants with a greatsword hung across his back. 'No way…please tell me this is some kind of stupid dream.'

He pumped his fist into the air with a laugh. "Finally, I'm free from that stupid curse. I tell you, don't sleep with a nymph. Little bastards are nasty pieces of work."

Joan's shock wore off, and she glared at him with her sword in hand. "Who the hell are you?"

The man slicked his bangs back, drinking from a flask he pulled from his pocket. "The name's Qrow. I was the Guildmaster of the Heroes Guild after Weaver died. What year is it?"

"The Guild burned four hundred fifty years ago," Joan replied slowly, lowering her sword. He wasn't a threat at least.

"What? That long? Damn, Scythe is going to kill me." Qrow scratched the back of his head with an awkward chuckle, and he looked at her curiously. "Now that I think of it…you really remind me of someone I knew. What's your name? I didn't exactly catch in the time I spent teasing you."

"Joan."

"Joan, huh? Pretty. Suits you well."

"I'm flattered." Joan rolled her eyes. "So, who is this person I supposedly remind you of?"

"Jaune Arc. The Hero of Oakvale."

"You knew my forefather?" Joan asked.

"I certainly did." Qrow's gaze raked down her body and he gave her a suggestive wink. "Though you are much easier on the eyes."

Joan blushed and looked away. Knowing that the gnome hitting on her and taunting her enemies was in fact a handsome Hero who she could only presume was cursed by a sprite did make her feel a certain way, and she didn't like it. "Don't make me shoot you again, you dirty old man."

"Old? Who are you calling old?" Qrow smirked. "I am not old. I got moves for days, Blondie."

Joan pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh of exasperation as she started to walk through the camp. "You have a way with words that really make me regret freeing you." 'The smell…ugh, it makes my stomach churn. Blood, sweat, and gunpowder do not make for a good combination.'

"Damn, you don't have a sense of humor at all." Qrow folded his hands behind his head with a dramatic sigh, following her out of the camp. "Most women in Albion would've thrown themselves at me by now asking me to take them."

Joan faced him in anger, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "Most women didn't watch as the love of their life was sentenced to death in front of them! Do you even have the slightest clue what that's like!?"

Qrow's smile faded and was replaced by a look of pain. "I do. I watched as my own lover was overpowered by balverines during a quest in Knothole Glade. I was pinned down by three of them, and let me tell you, it was by far the worst day of my life."

Joan buried her head in her hands, trying to fight the tears. "Yang…"

Qrow let out a sigh and wrapped an arm around her. "You're a good person, Joan. I can see it in your actions today and yesterday. The one thing you can't do is blame yourself. It's a path that will only lead you to ruin."

"Why her?" she asked in despair. "Why did she have to die?"

Qrow shook his head, rubbing her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. "Sometimes, bad things just happen. The only thing you can do is accept it and move on."

"Move on to what?"

"Well, you are trying to lead a revolution, are you not?" he pointed out. "I say you focus on that goal. Not for those you've lost, but for the people you haven't lost yet."

Joan wiped the tears from her eyes with a small snort of laughter. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you? I figured you were only a dirty, shameless old man. I didn't expect any words of wisdom to ever leave your mouth."

Qrow gave her a gentle thump on the back. "Hey, remember that I'm technically four hundred eighty years old. I get my wisdom being leagues older than you."

"And yet you don't look a day over thirty two."

"Comes with being a damn gnome for a millennia."

Joan rubbed her hands together as they left the shelter of Raven's mercenary camp; even at the base of the mountains, the cold wind still managed to nip at her. 'Even down here, it's chilly. Not as bad as up by the Dweller Camp, but still. I wouldn't like to walk around here with less than what I have on.'

The wind coming off the lake probably made it feel chillier than it actually was.

"Cold?" Qrow asked, noticing her discomfort.

Joan nodded, and he untied his cape and placed it around her shoulders. "Here. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."

The blonde wrapped it around her, looking at him worriedly. "Won't you be cold?" 'I'm grateful for the gesture, but I don't want him to be cold because of me.'

He shook his head. "Nah. I spent a few years in Snowspire Village, up in the Northern Wastes. The cold doesn't bother me."

"Why did you live there? It sounds awful." Joan felt cold just thinking about the place.

"Blame Jaune for that one," Qrow replied with a snort, falling in next to her. "He and I made a bet that I wouldn't be able to stand the place. Turns out the village was a nice change of pace compared to the city of Bowerstone. No witches trying to abduct children, no corrupt guards; it was nice and peaceful."

Joan sighed. It was going to be a long three hour walk back to Brightwall.

She couldn't wait to rest at the inn, where Zwei was waiting for her. Her arms and legs ached from her fight with Raven, and the cold wasn't helping. It was starting to lull her to sleep, and in her present condition it was dangerous for her to attempt to scale the slippery slopes. 'By Avo, I'm exhausted. I feel like I'm going to pass out.'

She pinched her arm in an attempt to shake off her drowsiness. The brief sting of pain did little to rouse her, however, and her eyelids grew heavier with each step.

Qrow noticed her fatigue, and he put his arm out in front of her. "Come on, kiddo. I'll carry you back."

"I'm fine," Joan insisted, stumbling a little. "Just a little tired."

The older Hero sighed, crouching down to carry her on his back. "No, you're not. You can barely stand; it wouldn't do you any good to push yourself until you passed out. Besides, I know where to go thanks to being a gnome."

Before Joan could even protest, he had picked her up effortlessly. Her head rested against his shoulder, and she let her weary eyes close with a murmur. "Thank you…"

It didn't take even thirty seconds before she fell asleep on his back.

A/N: Annnnnd that's a wrap for this chapter! Please, tell me what you think in the review section below! I'm eager to hear your thoughts on it, so don't refrain from telling me how you feel about this. See you soon!

Discord: C. Strife #5371