Man, finding the time to write. Pretty hard.

I went back an fixed the more egregious errors in the previous chapters. Most of them. Some of them. Okay, whatever jumped out at me in a cursory sweep.

Chapter 3

The Surface of the Sun

Jaune disembarked with a palpable relief at the prospect of being on solid ground once more. At least, as solid as ground could be when it was actually a semicircular platform affixed to the top of a very tall wall. So really only ground by extension, and by using a very liberal interpretation of the word.

Still though, in comparison to the flight it was downright pleasant.

With his every step, Jaune felt a little more aware, a little more like himself. Enough to notice that they appeared to be waiting for something

For what exactly, he wasn't sure.

Presumably some sort of guide or whatever passed for an immigration official out here. After all, they surely wouldn't just be set adrift in the city without an introduction.

But while Verdant was perched on their luggage without a care in the world, there were clear traces of tension in both parents. Far more so than any mere formality warranted.

The stiffness in Liadain's posture, the marks Jaq was drumming into his belt. No matter how much they would have appeared as such to an unfamiliar observer, those actions weren't born of impatience. Jaune could say that for certain after years and years of often unintentional testing.

Without any actual information however, that was about all that he could deduce. So instead, Jaune had to content himself with simply looking around to pass the time.

The first thing that struck him was just how busy it was

The Arcs stood in the centre of the landing bay, airships surrounding them in a partial ring, facing a group of elevators that led down to the city proper. They were surprisingly crude. Little more than metal platforms and grating attached to the interior face of the wall, leaving their occupants exposed to the open air. As if they'd been built for construction and never replaced.

The majority were obviously freight elevators. Each and every one in use as workers hurriedly unloaded sun branded crates and rushed them onto awaiting cargoships. While other workers frantically repaired Bullheads that bore the marks of battle, prepping them to serve as escorts once more. It was a constant mess of never-ending maintenance, loading and unloading.

A harsh squeal of metal announced the arrival of the sole passenger elevator, the rarely used machinery shrieking in stark contrast to the well-oiled and evidently well-used freight elevators.

The welcoming party had arrived.

Jaq's fingers stilled, Verdant perked up from her perch and Jaune was torn from his observations. Their focus on that single point. All of them, waiting.

The gate was drawn back with another screech and three men stepped out onto the dock. A tanned man with cropped bronze hair, flanked by two dour men that at first glance could be twins.

Jaune's eyes flickered over two. Their attire was neither the jumpsuit of the workers nor the armour of the soldiers manning the wall. Instead they were clad in simple white jackets completing grey three-piece suits. Unadorned save for small golden pins upon their lapel of an eight pointed sun. Longswords hung from their belts alongside a simple leather pouch, unassuming at a glance but the quality of their make clear.

It was no great leap to assume that these were a higher form of personnel. Not as noteworthy as hunters perhaps, but by design. Intended to be unobtrusive, but capable to any that cared to see.

Which meant, naturally, that the man they followed was someone of importance.

He was tall; notably so. Jaune could see his own father, no small man himself, would only reach his nose. But he was also shockingly thin, giving him an almost frail appearance. As though he'd once possessed normal proportions and then been stretched. Despite that, he wore his burnished gold armour as if it were feather light, and the claymore strapped to his back spoke volumes of his strength.

The result was almost aquiline. Sharp lines with a tight smile, a predator. Though his unsettling appearance was softened somewhat by the genuine welcome in his golden eyes.

'Ho Arcs!'

This was his parents' occasional teammate, seldom seen friend and now, their host.

The man that ruled this city.

Ballucis Aurelias.

Liadain offered a thin smile in return, whereas Jaq bound up and met him with a laugh and a thunderous clap on the shoulders.

'Ballucis! How the not-so-mighty have fallen.'

Everyone silently agreed to ignore the escorts' reach for their swords at Jaq's approach. As well as Ballucis' slight gesture that quelled them.

'An investment manager?' Jaq shook his head sadly. 'For shame.'

There was a flash of teeth in Ballucis' smile. An almost too casual shrug as he responded.

'It's an investment worth managing. Come, I'll show you to your home.'

Jaune was silent as the group trailed through the paved streets.

He'd barely said a word since their arrival, save an awkward response to Ballucis' inquiry into his training on the ride down from the wall. Their host had seemed a touch disappointed at the answer, not unkindly per se, but he'd responded for more positively to news of Verdant's graduation.

He hadn't addressed Jaune any further, and that suited Jaune just fine.

Every hair on his neck had been raised by their reception. The bad feeling he'd had on and off for weeks was back in full force, an insidious tickle at the base of his skull. And he was very very aware of the two men following silently behind them.

Put simply, Jaune was already on edge enough without the attention being on him.

He was doing his best to understand their greeting. To make sense of it and ease his rattled nerves with a rational explanation.

After all, the guards were protecting someone very important. The cousin of Helios' CEO and a prominent member of the Aurelias family, so vigilance was assuredly a good thing. Something expected of them.

But on the other hand, as the little voice in his head was pointing out.

There'd been no risk of Grimm. No threat save the approach of someone known to them, someone expected even. But their first instinct had still been to draw.

And that was disquieting.

Mistral politics were of a very different kind that any other Kingdom. A far less pleasant kind than any other Kingdom, with the possible exception of Vacuo. At least, that's what he'd gleaned from his sisters. They'd described it as an odd mix of oligarchy and meritocracy, which Jaune didn't exactly understand. Either what it meant or how it actually worked.

But what he did know; Mistral was a place of ambition, privilege and power.

There'd been an undertone to Ballucis' words. A hint of something in his smile.

Bulwark may technically be within Vale's borders. But something told Jaune Mistralian politics were very much in play.

He'd been thrust into a den of deathstalkers. Then he'd been told to live there.

So he was content to be silent. To watch and to listen until he learnt the rules of whatever game was being played. Or until he became a victim of it.

Luckily, when surrounded by his more able and more interesting family, it was unlikely he'd draw any notice at all.

A puppy fears little when protected by wolves.

For the first time in his life, Jaune was actually glad for that.

'It isn't far,' said Ballucis. 'Your family is actually situated relatively near to the south-wall.'

'Good neighbourhood?' Jaq asked faux earnestly. 'Cause, you know, we have kids.'

His answer was simply an exasperated glance before continuing, 'Afterwards, you'll be briefed at the Lighthouse with the details of your first assignments.'

'And what exactly are the nature of our assignments.' Liadain cut in, her tone sharp and demanding even as her eyes bore holes into their hosts' back. 'We weren't exactly well-informed before we were ordered here.'

'Simply easing the pressure on some of our resident hunters, culling and wall-duty largely.'

'And Mistral couldn't spare hunters for that?'

'Forgive me,' Ballucis replied with a smile. 'I enjoy working with familiar faces.'

Liadain's brows furrowed near imperceptibly. Whether from approval, disapproval, revelation or confusion, Jaune had no idea. But it must have been sufficient for her, as she lapsed into silence.

Verdant was content to entirely ignore the conversation. She flitted ahead and dropped behind the group as her interest was piqued.

'The Lighthouse?' Jaq asked.

Ballucis quirked an eyebrow at him, 'Did you truly believe the spire was a monument to my family's ego?'

'I mean…'

'Droll Jaq, very droll. I find myself forgetting exactly why I requested you, certainly not for your intellect.'

'My stunning good looks?'

Their host pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, but the amusement in his voice was clear.

'This is a port city, ergo the Lighthouse.'

Jaune tapped his mother on the elbow, mouthing his question when she turned to face him. Her eyes crinkled, a smile momentarily breaking through the grim visage she'd worn since their arrival.

She whispered the answer to his unspoken query, 'Therefore.'

'Uh-huh,' Jaq said dubiously. 'So it's just pure coincidence that there's a big ol' ball of light at the top? Sort of like the thing branded on literally everything you own?'

Ballucis employed the same strategy Jaune had seen many use many a time against his father, the most frequent being his mother. He simply continued as though Jaq had never spoken.

'It's also the main communications hub –'

'Literally everything.'

'– and our headquarters.'

'Surprising no one.'

'I see you still haven't found a way to fix him,' said Ballucis, looking over his shoulder at Liadain and Jaune. 'I shall continue to hope.'

She responded with a noncommittal hum, her face once more as hard as stone.

For the next few blocks, the conversation became little more than inane chatter. Largely consisting of Jaq claiming perfection couldn't be fixed to Ballucis' increasingly obvious annoyance.

Jaune did his best to keep an ear on their conversation, but the familiarity of the banter soothed him somewhat, regardless of what his brain said. He was almost unwillingly becoming relaxed enough to simply marvel at his new home. Though not enough to forget about their sword-happy shadows.

They were headed down a nice street, seemingly what passed for a commercial area in Bulwark. Buildings of shaped stone served as shops, smatterings of stalls interspersed amongst them. Little places for coffee, general goods stores and the like. As well as a dust store which was sort of a given.

There was even a stall that appeared to sell nothing but cabbages, its elderly proprietor glaring distrustfully at the group as they passed by. More than a little odd.

'I've been meaning to ask,' Jaq jerked his thumb back at the two guards.

'Pelte and Lockhion?'

'I knew it!' he crowed triumphantly. 'What happened to Tomis?'

'Ah,' Ballucis gave a shrug. 'Mistral took him.'

A shiver ran down Jaune's spine. He had a few guesses as to what that could mean. None of them good.

There went his burgeoning ease.

Liadain muttered darkly under her breath, her words scarcely louder than the breath itself.

'And they call us savages.'

Her eyes were fixed on Verdant as she idly examined the arrangements at a flower stall a short distance down the road. She was sniffing at a bouquet of begonias, utterly oblivious to the worried gaze of her mother.

It didn't take much longer for them to reach the house.

They continued a few blocks further down the commercial street, turned down a slightly narrower laneway, and then found themselves in a long row of perfectly uniform stone houses.

Which was decidedly the opposite of good news for Jaune.

At least the buildings in the commercial district varied in size and shape, even if they were all shaped stone. But here they were nearly identical. The similarity of the streets was enough of a problem, the houses just added a whole other level of difficulty.

The sole differences were minor aesthetic ones, implemented by residents in an effort to make them more homey. Needless to say when every house was the same shape, colour and material, their success was limited at best.

Hopefully there'd be some kind of map to download to his scroll. If not, Jaune had no idea how he'd find his way around.

Thankfully, their house had actually been spruced up slightly from the stock standard. Their shutters were a nice blue against the white stone, Arc was spelled out in gold letters above the heavy wooden door.

It was nice. Benefit of being a Hunter he supposed.

Not enough for him to have recognised it before Ballucis stopped outside, but at least it provided some measure of recognising where he lived. Assuming he found the right area of the right street…in the right area of town.

God he hoped there would be a map.

They were ushered inside with their luggage and urgings to get settled before the senior Arcs disappeared with their escorts. Leaving Jaune and Verdant standing awkwardly on the threshold, examining their new house.

It wasn't spartan exactly; the furnishings were good quality, likely better than what others received. But it felt sterile, impersonal. Because it was. It was a house, plain and simple, not their home.

Perhaps one day it would be. Maybe time would smooth down its rough edges and history would give it warmth. But for now, it was a far cry from their comfortable Vale townhouse.

There was a fruit basket though. Which was also nice.

That it was surrounded by a veritable stack of brightly coloured pamphlets detailing rules, regulations and city features only slightly detracted from its opulence. Possibly more than slightly.

Jaune turned to face Verdant, but found himself struggling for words.

He wanted to speak. To ask her questions about their reception. What she'd taken from Ballucis' words, her impression of Bulwark in general, but the words just weren't forthcoming. Asking was suddenly a daunting prospect.

Would she call him paranoid? Tell him his discomfort was baseless?

Certainly she hadn't seemed to share his wariness on the way over, wandering without care.

If he asked would he be the scared child? Running to the powerful Huntress for comfort?

Once upon a time he would have asked without thought, he wouldn't have needed any. Regardless of whether he'd be mocked or answered seriously.

But there was a distance between them hadn't existed before. A gulf of experiences no longer shared, and made no narrower by four years of sporadic contact.

On the Bullhead, it had seemed easy. They'd fallen right back into old habits, or at least a version of them.

But now that they were alone, they had nothing to say.

And the silence between the stretched on.

'I call upstairs!'

Verdant disappeared in a blur, her bags and a few choice pieces of fruit disappearing.

With a sigh, Jaune hefted his own bag and went to find his own room.

The more things change…

He did take some fruit though.

No way in hell was she getting all of the nice pieces.

Seven gifts for a stone shelf.

One from each sister.

The sole decoration he'd brought to fill his bare room.

They weren't grandiose, nor celebrating any particular occasion. Instead, they were for little things. Small moments of meaning. Some of them old, from years he could scarcely remember, others more recent.

Moments to remember, of siblings seen too little.

He placed them one by one, his hands lingering on the first and the last. The oldest, and the youngest.

A chunk of quartz that glimmered with light, and a tiny bronze knight.

Gwen had given first. Back when he'd feared the dark, feared it would bring the Grimm. The second Verdant, gifted just before she'd left for Signal. A year before his own attempt. A dream they'd both shared.

Jaune loved all of his sisters of course, but it was them he'd been closest to.

Gwen was the eldest, already at Signal when Jaune was born. After becoming a Huntress, she'd made a point of being around for her youngest siblings. But when she felt they'd no longer needed her, she'd left. Off to the Badlands, to help those that needed it sorely, but it took her out of their reach.

And so it went for the others.

Combat School, Hunter Academy, and then their own paths. They'd made time when they could, but each had their own lives to live.

The youngest two by a significant amount, Jaune and Verdant had only really had each other.

It was with her he'd first played at being a hero, re-enacting the famous events and casting her as the villain. She'd taken to the role with gusto, cheating liberally and subverting history. But it was fun nevertheless.

They'd played, fought and most importantly, dreamed.

The youngest two in a family of Hunters, small wonder they'd hoped to follow those steps.

'So, Jay.'

Jaune nearly leapt out of his skin. Doing his absolute best to pretend his heart-rate hadn't jumped to dangerous levels, he slowly turned to see Verdant leaning against his doorjamb. Hopefully she hadn't been there very long.

'How's training coming?'

The answer must have been written all over his face, as she just grimaced and nodded.

'Right then.'

Her hand twitched.

A piece of brightly coloured paper hit him in the face, reducing his vision to nothing more than a splotch of colour. Immediately, he gasped in surprise. The sharp intake of air pulling the paper tighter against his mouth, creating a seal.

He couldn't breathe.

Panicked, Jaune scrabbled at his face, trying desperately to tear the damn thing off while his sister giggled at his plight. When it came loose, Jaune sucked in air like a dying man and fixed her with a baleful glare. She just giggled harder. Meeting his glare with amused and entirely unrepentant eyes.

Scowling, Jaune dropped his stare to examine her would-be murder weapon.

It was one of the pamphlets from the table.

'According to the map, there's a practice ground not too far from here.'

Did that mean…?

'Get your gear,' a downright wicked smile alighting her face. 'You're cruisin' for a bruisin'.'

Well, he had been hoping to learn to fight while he was here.

'And then maybe I'll teach you something.'

Jaune laughed apprehensively. Nervously even.

Nervously, fearfully and with anticipatory pain.

At least there was a map.

'That's a stick.'

'Glaive.'

'It's made of wood.'

'Practice glaive.'

Jaune was clad in his armour, sword and shield raised and ready to do combat.

In contrast on the opposite side of the practice ring, Verdant leant comfortably on a stick.

Her attire entirely unchanged, wholly unconcerned.

'It feels unfair.'

She stifled a grin.

'Jaune, I have no response that won't sound mean. But yes, it is unfair.'

His cheeks coloured at her assertion, knowing there was no small amount of truth in her words.

'Now, come on!' she jabbed the butt of her staff into the ground, a puff of dust exploding upwards at the impact. 'Let's go already.'

Reluctantly, Jaune started his advance. He ran at her full tilt, Crocea Mors extended before him. Ready to slice and skewer at the slightest movement.

Verdant hadn't so much as twitched.

Instead, she was just grinning openly now. Still casually leaning on her staff.

This was ridiculous.

A single swipe would cut through her weapon. An unlucky slash would wound her. It wasn't as though he thought he could win, in fact he was pretty sure that was impossible. But the risk of an accidental maiming was just too high no matter how confident she was.

Jaune let his pace slow, stopping entirely a few paces in front of her.

'Look,'

Her eyes narrowed.

'Why don't I just use a pract–'

His hand exploded in pain. As did his ankle. Barely an instant between them.

The air was driven out his lungs as he impacted against the packed dirt. His pained shout became nothing more than a wheeze of agony.

He hadn't even seen her move.

The tip of her boot poked him in the side of the head, prompting him to look up at her as she stood next to his splayed out form.

'Lesson the first; if your beautiful and talented sister tells you to do something. You do it.'

Jaune just wheezed again, words beyond him.

'Also a bunch of stuff about hesitation, guard, attention and footing. You can figure that out yourself though, right?'

'Meep.'

Well, at least it wasn't a wheeze.

'Okay then! Let's go again!'

Confusion was written into every pore of Jaune's face.

His sword had left his hand when she'd struck him. It was somewhere off to his right and out of reach. He was still winded and, most importantly, he was on his back.

Surely she didn't mean…

Verdant tutted.

'Lesson the first Jay.'

Her staff moved in a blur. Whipping up and plunging down at speeds Jaune could scarcely follow. Even as he shrieked his fear, he forced his shield up. Positioning it just in time to meet the blow.

It had the force of wrecking ball.

His arm buckled immediately, the back of his own shield smashing painfully into his face.

A metallic tang filled his mouth. Blood.

Not pausing and giving no quarter, the glaive came down again.

Jaune rolled desperately, just barely avoiding the second blow. Narrowly enough that it tore out a few hairs. The sheer force of the impact washed over him, the sound reverberated in his ears.

It was terrifying.

As he rolled, Jaune snatched up Crocea Mors, using it to push himself to a kneeling position without a moment to spare. He glimpsed her boots leaving the ground, leaping towards him at speed. Jaune grit his teeth as he forced his protesting arm over his head, taking it on the shield.

It nearly sent him straight into the dirt. Pain shot up his arm, not yet recovered from the last block, but he held on.

He slashed viciously as he rose, intending to catch her thigh to shoulder, but she avoided it with ease. Skipping backwards as if he'd grabbed at her in a game of tag. Then she lunged back in.

The wooden butt of her glaive struck him in the chest before he could even think about countering, snaking around his shield as if it didn't exist. His feet scrabbled for purchase as he skidded backwards, but all too soon they slipped out from under him.

He crashed into the ground with enough force that his teeth rattled and rolled to avoid the pursuing blow. But the blow didn't come.

Jaune lifted his sweaty head, the dirt of the ring's floor caked to his face.

She was waiting.

Instead of pursuing with another strike, she was waiting for him to stand. She hadn't even made use of the wooden blade on her weapon yet, restricting herself to the stave.

She was playing with him.

He'd been offended if he wasn't bleeding internally.

'Ow. Ow. Ow.'

Every movement hurt as Jaune pushed himself up.

They hadn't been fighting very long at all. If he had to guess, they would have been going for less than three minutes but it felt more like hours. The sheer force and speed of her blows were already taking their toll on his body.

Once he was standing, Verdan began.

It started slow; she twirled the glaive in lazy circles, approaching at the speed of a casual stroll. But with every rotation, the spin became faster.

There was a smile on her face as she stalked towards him. The cat that had caught the canary.

Or the Grimm that had caught the injured human.

That analogy was better.

A few steps away, the glaive was nothing but a blur.

He couldn't afford to wait for her to strike.

Jaune threw himself forwards, levering his shield to break the momentum of the spin.

Theoretically at least.

In actuality, Jaune ate dirt. A lot of dirt.

He was sent skidding across the ring floor, layers upon layers of skin rubbed off by friction. When he came to a stop, he lay still.

'I think I have carpet burn.'

'It's dirt Jaune.'

'I think I have dirt burn.'

'Not a thing.'

The tip of her glaive slid under his side, rolling him over with barely a movement. Jaune cringed, helpless before the strike, but instead she offered a hand.

'You get short break.'

She pulled him up to a sitting position, ignoring his groans of pain and sat herself beside him. While Jaune was coated liberally in dirt, sweat and a veritable collection of bruises, she was still perfectly immaculate.

'I think you broke me.'

Verdant just laughed and nudged his shoulder playfully, eliciting another whimper from Jaune.

'Remember Jauney,' she replied, rolling her eyes at his reaction. 'Pain is the best teacher.

He glared at her. Tried to anyway. It ended up as little more than a twitch of his eyebrow before it exploded in pain.

'Gah!' The skin had split at some point during their spar. 'So what's pain teaching me now?'

'Dunno, get better?'

The words were delivered with a shrug and a smile. Jaune appreciated them little.

'You'll be off to Beacon soon I guess.'

He didn't bother trying to mask his jealousy, she already knew his aspirations. They'd shared them after all.

'Actually,' she awkwardly toyed with a lock of hair. 'I was thinking about Haven.'

His neck almost snapped it swivelled so quickly.

'I know, I know,' she said helplessly. 'But now that it's actually here, Beacon just seems so…Vale.'

Well quite frankly that sounded unkind. To Vale and Beacon both. But Jaune could see what she meant.

At Beacon she would excel, but she'd never truly stand out. No matter how good she was, ultimately she would just be another link in the chain.

The seventh Arc of the generation. Another part of the legacy.

Any mark made wouldn't be her own.

Whereas at Haven, she'd be the first Arc since the Great War.

Even so, Jaune hadn't expected it.

'Besides, Vi's there and she says Mistral is a ton of fun. Wayyy more adventure than Vale.'

Verdant planned to go right into the belly of the beast that was Mistral. Diving headfirst into the snakepit that Haven was a proving ground for. At least their second eldest sister had waited until she was a fully-fledged Huntress.

Not to mention whatever was going on between Vale and Mistral.

Hunters and Hunters-in-training got tangled up in enough as it was. But in Mistral, where politics and intrigue were as much part of the Academy as more the standard training, it was basically a foregone conclusion she'd end up involved. If not in that, then something else.

Adventure indeed.

No wonder their mother was so worried.

'Breaks over!'

For a brief instant, Jaune knew what it was like to fly.

He was then reacquainted with the ground.

Repeatedly.

Okay, full disclosure. I don't love this chapter.

It feels simultaneously too short and too long. Self indulgent, lots of introspection and clumsy writing to give backstory that could be given in a better way. But I also can't tell whether or not I'm feeling that just because I've been mulling over it too long.

I might end up taking it down and rewriting it if I can come up with a better version, so any feedback is helpful.

But for now, hopefully enjoy.