Hello again! Long time no see! (not).
Words just came pouring out of me this time around. Consider this an early Christmas present from me to all you loyal readers. You guys rock!
Without further ado, the chapter!
Jaune leaned over the railing of the ferry, prepared to unload his lunch into the dark water below. His motion-sickness hadn't been an issue when he first got on board the ferry, but once the boat got moving his stomach started churning, and he just couldn't take it. He spat into the water, trying to will himself to vomit.
Of course, it was a classic case of his body doing the opposite of what he wanted it to do; instead of throwing up overboard like he wanted, his body was doing its absolute best to keep the partially digested food inside of him – which made him feel worse. Jaune would rather just get it over with and throw up already.
Jaune looked up at the midday sun, and then he felt a hand on his back. He suddenly spasmed, finally able to release the contents of his stomach. The hand gently rubbed his back as he hurled. It was a comfortable feeling.
Spitting again, Jaune tried to rid his mouth of the acidic taste of his own stomach's contents. He turned, facing the stranger who'd assisted him.
She appeared to be a middle-aged woman, with her crimson hair done up in a high bun. She was appropriately dressed for the weather, bundled up to protect her from the elements. The stranger held out a vial of clear liquid to him.
"Here, take a swig of this, swish it around in your mouth, then spit it overboard. It'll help settle your stomach."
Although Jaune was skeptical being offered something like that from a stranger, he rationed that even being poisoned and potentially dying was worth the risk. He gratefully accepted the offered vial, un-corking it and doing as the red haired woman suggested.
Swishing the contents of the vial around in his mouth, he noted that the cold substance felt unusually hot against the walls of his mouth.
The relief wasn't quite instantaneous, but upon spitting the now cloudy white liquid overboard, Jaune felt much better, "Thank you so much ma'am, it felt like I was dying."
The generous woman chuckled at that, moving to stand next to him, leaning against the railing with crossed arms, "It certainly sounded like ya' were, with all that moaning and groaning." Her accent caught him off guard but she gave him a polite smile as he returned her now partially empty vial.
"Yeah, boats and airships have never really agreed with me." Being prone to motion sickness sucked.
"When you have ta' travel as much as I do, you meet all kinds of people. I've had ta' deal with tons of other sick people before, as well as other problems. I usually have something for them." She tucked the vial into a pouch on her thigh; likely where it had come from in the first place. When she adjusted her coat, Jaune caught a glimpse of the handle of some sort of weapon. Was she a huntress?
Jaune smiled at her "That's really kind of you." He held out a hand to shake. "I'm Jaune Arc."
He figured it wasn't the time to add his usual tirade.
"Sherry," She took his hand, "Sherry Port. You a local, Jaune?"
"Yep," was the curt response Jaune gave, before he continued "born and raised in Vale, living on Patch while I go to school. I'm on my way to visit my family for the Color Holidays."
"I see. What're you studying for?"
Jaune supposed that wasn't too personal a question to answer – besides, Sherry did help him out; the least he could do was make conversation. "I'm in training to be a huntsman, actually. I'm attending Signal Academy."
"Signal Academy." Sherry repeated, testing the name. "That place has quite the reputation, I hear. It's got good instructors; lots of famous alumni too. You planning on going ta' Beacon then?"
"Yeah, that's the plan." Jaune confirmed.
"I hear... good things about Beacon from my husband. Their teaching staff is excellent, it seems. Considering Vale's recent contributions ta' the pool of huntsmen and huntresses across Remnant, it doesn't come as a surprise."
Jaune thought over her words both freshly spoken and earlier, "So you're not from Vale then?" He reasoned.
"No, I hail from Mantle. I met the love of my life here in Vale. His job keeps him tied down though, while mine requires a lot of traveling."
"Are you a huntress?" Jaune asked politely.
"Technically, no. I never graduated from one of the four academies. But I don't need ta' be a huntress. Dead Grimm are dead Grimm, it don't matter who kills them." Sherry explained.
"I see."
The two stood in a companionable silence for a moment, before Sherry pointed out – sounding for all intentions like a pirate: "Land ho! Vale's on the horizon, it shan't be long before we reach the docks. If ya' got a bag stowed, you should go grab it, matey!"
What?
"I didn't hear an 'Ayy Cap'n!'"
Not knowing what to do, Jaune gave a mock salute with a smile, "Ayy Cap'n!"
Sherry chuckled at that "There's a good kid," she stated normally, "Remember ta' have fun every now and then young man. You're at the age where you're going ta' start worrying about every little thing, every minor detail. Take my advice, from one go-getting slayer of Grimm ta' another."
Jaune nodded respectfully, "I'll remember that."
"Good kid." Sherry repeated. "Good kid."
Crossing the gangplank, Jaune's legs were thankful to be on land once more. Although his stomach had been settled thanks to whatever Sherry had given him, standing on a boat for so long still left his legs feeling strange.
"Just start walking, work it off." he heard Sherry instruct from behind him. Jaune wordlessly agreed, shuffling forward with an awkward gait.
Far enough inland, Jaune bid goodbye to Sherry, the older woman asking him for his scroll ID. Jaune wasn't quite sure why though - they'd only just met. After he complied, he asked her about it and she explained it succinctly:
"Technically, you owe me one. That medicine wasn't exactly cheap, you know."
Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet. Jaune shook his head as he walked along the street. Just this once, he took it back. She wasn't a nice person.
Meandering down the sidewalk, Jaune took a deep breath in through his nose. The air wasn't as clean in the city as it was on Patch, but to Jaune it was refreshing. It smelt like home.
The blond decided to stop at a convenience store and pick up a light snack; he'd been hungry ever since he lost his lunch to the sea. Munching on a cracker he pulled out of the bag he bought, he continued on his path.
The streets were decorated with colorful ribbons and banners, lights glittered in the windows of apartment buildings and stores alike. The Color Holidays were in full swing, and people had every right to be excited.
Not to be confused with the Vytal Festival, the Color Holidays were a celebration of the end of the Revolutionary War. Jaune's grandfather had fought in both the Revolutionary War and the Great War, searching to end the reign of the oppressionist monarchy, crowning the Last King in the former, then to defend the Valean people's freedoms in the latter.
At the time of the Revolutionary War, every kingdom was still ruled by actual monarchs. The king of Vale back then was, by many accounts, not the nicest person.
People celebrated Colors Day – the anniversary of the crowning of Vale's Last King – by giving gifts that inspired creation and individuality: what the Last King fought to protect in the Great War itself. Whether it was something they painted or crafted themselves, or materials the recipient could use. Some people took it literally, and some found interesting workarounds in order to give gifts that lay outside the guidelines. An example would be someone gifting another jewelry, saying it 'would create love' or something like that.
Though that didn't make much sense to Jaune - jewelry could be expensive.
Jaune didn't much care for bending the rules like that however. In the Arc household, it was a family tradition to give gifts that were more practical. But with so many family members, the kids have only ever been expected to give a gifts to one of their other siblings. Every sibling only buys one gift for another. This year, Jaune was to provide a gift for his older sister Juncea – he didn't know who was to gift him.
He still hadn't bought her a gift, Jaune noted regrettably. Shopping on Patch was limited to necessities for the most part, so he'd waited until he be in the city to shop.
The only question now was what to get her? She liked cooking... and it was also her job, so maybe a cookbook or something? Or perhaps a new knife?
Jaune pondered this, reading signs as he walked. He took a few more steps before he stopped, turned, and slipped into Tukson's Book Trade.
The bell above the door rang as he entered. Who he assumed was Tukson was standing behind the counter at the back of the store, smiling as Jaune wandered towards the self-help section. He gave the man a wave, smiling back politely. He began browsing. The store's burly owner came to stand next to him - obviously intent on making a sale.
"Hello, welcome to Tukson's Book Trade, home to every book under the sun. Is there something you're looking for specifically?" the bearded book man asked.
"Well, I need to get my sister a Colors Day present, and she really likes cooking, so I guess I wanted to see if you have any cookbooks," the blond hunter-in-training explained "I see you have A Touch of Salt and Vinegar by Janus Green, but I was wondering if you guys had something a little more..." Jaune made a motion with his hand, as if searching for the right word.
"Sophisticated?" Tukson supplied.
"Sure, let's go with that." Jaune accepted.
"I did just sell my last shelved copy of Shiro's Book of Masterpiece Recipes. If you wait a minute, I'll go look in the back and see if I've still got another copy."
"Sure thing."
Tukson disappeared through the door behind the counter, and Jaune continued to scan the shelves, seeing if there was anything else interesting.
Little did Jaune know that the self-help section was right next to a section containing some... more risque literature.
"Ninjas of Love: Recipe For Desire? That's an interesting title. I wonder what kind of cookbook it is?" Jaune thought out loud as he flipped through the pages. "There's no pictures though, I don't know how good it will be."
"It's... a good book..." a voice came from right next to him.
"Gah!" was the undignified noise Jaune made – caused by his close proximity to a girl who hadn't been standing there before, "Where did you come from?"
"I-I've been here the whole time." The raven haired teen explained.
The teen – or maybe young adult, Jaune couldn't really tell – wore a black bow on her head, had golden yellow eyes, and wore a white and black outfit that he couldn't really describe. She also had a weapon of some sort sheathed on her back.
Is everyone I'm ever meet going to be some kind of fighter? Well, Tukson might not be. He seems relatively normal; he owns a bookstore.
The black haired girl fidgeted uncomfortably under Jaune's gaze. Noticing her slightly red cheeks, Jaune returned to the topic at hand – or more specifically, in hand.
"Eheh, sorry about that," Jaune said apologetically, "So, you say this is a good book? I've never seen one without pictures before – that, and it seems to be organized into chapters, not sections."
The girl's light blush deepened, "Well, It's very descriptive. I can understand that some people might need pictures, but the writing is good enough that it gets someone like me who has... no experience... going."
Ah, so it was good for beginners then. Juncea would probably like something like this - she could even lend it to Violet. "I don't have any experience either. I've always wanted to try my hand at it, but sometimes it just seems like it would be too hard, you know?"
"Too... hard?" The girl hid her mouth behind her hands. Her face was almost fully red now. Was she sick or something?
"Yeah. It seems like it would be difficult. But," Jaune put a finger up "If it does get too hard, it just means you'll need to work more. Because the harder it is, the more you have to work, the more you work, the more you get out of it right?" At least, that's what Juncea said.
'Cooking is more complicated than you know, Jaune.'
The girl looked like she was incapable of speaking. Was she okay? She seemed to be shivering.
Tukson chose that moment to come out the back, and called out "Hey kid! I found another copy!"
"Oh, nice!" Jaune started over towards the counter, before turning back to the girl with the bow. "Hey, thanks for the recommendation."
The black haired girl did not respond, apparently more interested in the blank section of the wall that was in front of her.
Having paid for the two books, Jaune continued on his way home, following the winding streets of Vale. The city was a big place – he'd even considered getting a cab, but decided against it. If he spent money on a cab, he probably wouldn't have been able to afford the two books in the first place.
Night blanketed Vale by the time he found himself at the front door of the place he'd lived for the majority of his life.
The place Jaune Arc knew as home.
The Arc household was a fairly big place – it had to be, considering that at one point there was ten people living in it. Wrapped with lights and ribbon, it's normally off-white exterior was decorated with vibrant colors. Just like the other years, his mother and younger sisters seemed to have overdone it. Not that he particularly minded.
Jaune, rather than letting himself in, decided to ring the doorbell, just to see who'd come answer it.
He wasn't surprised that Lily – the triplet that was the youngest of all seven sisters– was the one to open the door.
He was surprised at how tall she'd grown.
"It's Jaune!" Lily shouted, as she jumped out the door to hug him. He had to make sure to catch her, if only to make sure that she didn't end up in the snow.
Jaune let out a hearty laugh as he carried her inside, somehow able to hold her in one arm despite her being almost as tall as he was now. "Miss me much Lily?" He let her down, ruffling her black hair. She pouted; Jaune knew she hated when he did that.
"Not anymore." she exclaimed.
Jaune faked hurt, placing his free hand over his heart and gasping, the bag of books still clutched in the other. "How could you Lily? I thought we were friends."
"We're not friends... we're family." Lily said matter-of-factly.
Jaune chuckled, and ruffled her hair again, despite the indignant 'hey!'
"Jaune!"
He reacted instantly, looking up to meet his mother's silver eyes. Her short cut blonde hair making her look much more youthful than she was – especially for a woman who birthed eight kids.
"Mom!" Jaune exclaimed, gently scooting Lily to the side in order to embrace his mother. "How are you?"
"I am quite well." Mom shivered as a gust blew in from behind Jaune. She moved past him to close the door he'd left open, being unable to close it himself while he'd been carrying Lily.
Jaune whispered in her ear as she passed, "We need to talk."
She smiled and nodded as she returned to where she'd stood before, "Did you get my letter?" the underlying message there was 'Is it about the book?'
Jaune nodded in response.
"Good. Sometimes Vale Postal can... be unreliable. Lily, you can go back to playing with your sisters."
"But Jaune's here now." Lily complained.
"Lily, Jaune and mom need to talk about something." Alabaster explained. The tone in her voice was something recognizable; If you didn't do what she said now, you'd be scrubbing dishes for a week. Or three.
Lily took off up the stairs like a Deathstalker had suddenly appeared at her feet.
Alabaster started towards the living room, beckoning Jaune to follow.
Jaune's mother sat in the seat that was usually reserved for the Arc patriarch. Jaune took that to mean that father wasn't home yet, and took her seat – where she'd have sat if he had been home.
The motherly mirth that was in her eyes moments ago was gone, instead replaced with the eyes of someone who had seen almost a decade of combat against the Grimm.
"So, you've read her journal then?" was the icebreaker.
"Not all of it. And it's not really a journal..." Jaune reasoned.
His mother shook her head "It's what she referred to it as; I'm well aware of what's in the book."
"Mom look..." Jaune paused, unsure about what direction to take the conversation. He didn't want to stir up potentially bad memories for his mother; but at the same time, it's been almost thirteen years since his aunt died, according to the letter she sent. She might not ever truly get over it...
But his mother had to talk about it.
Jaune took a deep breath, "What can you tell me about your sister?"
Minutes passed as they sat in silence. Jaune allowed her mother the time – no doubt she was gathering her thoughts; or maybe even psyching herself up to speak.
"My sister," Alabaster Arc finally started, pride in her voice, "was one of a kind. She was always full of energy, but she wasn't spastic – the most calm and collected person I knew. Her mind was always whirring, spinning ideas and analyzing anything she'd observed. She had a strong sense of justice, not willing to stand by and watch people get pushed around. She was a woman of action, and in the end, that's what got her killed."
Jaune remained silent, allowing his mother to continue.
"She got involved in some kind of nefarious plot to destroy Vale or some such nonsense – on the good side of it, mind you. She was never honored for her actions. She couldn't be. at least not publicly. The panic that would set in if people discovered that the people she'd put behind bars had been planning the destruction of Vale from right under their noses... it would have brought upon a collapse."
"A collapse?" Jaune quizzed. He was unfamiliar with the term.
"Grimm are attracted to negative emotions. Mass panic would draw even the most passive Grimm – the most intelligent Grimm – to Vale's walls. Those Grimm would then cause even more panic, and before you know it, we'd have Grimm in such numbers they'd be able to scale the walls, simply by climbing upon the backs of one another. That's practically what happened in Mantle during the Great War, and they barely managed to pull though. It's one of the main reasons everyone moved out to Atlas after the Great War; people knew they were safe there."
Jaune shuddered at the thought. He could picture a black sea of death, dotted with red eyes and white bone. He probably couldn't even take a Beowolf – and he had training. What would the civilians have thought?
What would Lily have thought? Actually, no, scratch that - Lily was literally fearless. But Yuné, and Mist - the other two triplets?
Jaune didn't want to think about it.
"And then one day, my sister didn't come back from an expedition out into the Valean Grimmlands. No trace, nothing left behind but the shattered pieces of her rifle. Eighteen fully qualified huntsmen and huntresses, me, my team, your father's team, my sister's teammates, as well as the current headmaster of Beacon went searching. Not a trace."
"So you're saying she might still be out there?" Jaune tried to sound hopeful.
His mother shot that down immediately. "No one could possibly survive in the Grimmlands for thirteen years – especially without their weapon. And don't you think she would have come back? She... left behind a family, Jaune. If I was her, I'd have done anything to get back to them."
Regrettably, Jaune saw his mother's point.
"Have you ever... contacted them? Her family I mean."
Jaune's mom shook her head, blonde locks shifting slightly, "Me and my sister never made up after our... fight." Jaune winced, remembering her mentioning that in her letter. "I could easily find them, connect with them, but I've chosen not to..."
The guilt in his mother's voice was obvious, even to him.
They remained in silence for awhile, Jaune not wanting to disturb her mother, and his mother likely unwilling to speak more.
Their silence was disturbed, when they heard the front door open.
"I'm home!" Jaune recognized the voice as that of his father. Forgetting the solemn atmosphere immediately, he leapt out of his seat.
"Dad!" Jaune rounded the corner and resisted the urge to jump his dad in a similar way as to how Lily had greeted him, and instead stopped almost right square in front of him.
"Jaune! How are you, my son?" the bear of a man that was Jaune's father placed a hand on his shoulder.
His dad hadn't changed a bit, Jaune noticed. His blue eyes reflected Jaune's own, excited to see the son who's been gone from home for such a long time. He ran his left hand back through his black hair, pushing the long locks back out of his face. His short moustache was pushed upwards as he grinned, pulling Jaune into a big hug – not that Jaune could resist, even if he wanted to.
Jaune's father's build was much like his own, if only a little more... intense. If Jaune had the lean musculature similar to an athlete, than his father, Aurum Arc, had the build of a true warrior, something obtainable only through vigorous training and countless campaigns against the Grimm. His dad's motto, as Jaune had learned, was 'never stop improving.'
Aurum let Jaune go as he reached behind his back to grab his pole-axe – Whiplash – and hung it on the wall, like one would hang a coat after a long day at work.
"Good." was the reply Jaune gave, noticing the stench of death rolling off his father, as well as the light spatter of blood on his blue long-coat. "You were out on a mission?"
"Yeah, nothing big – just a patrol in Forever Fall. Ran into a couple Ursa who got too close. They were big ones." he leaned in to whisper to Jaune: "They didn't make it."
Jaune chuckled at his dad's antics, giving him a playful shot in the arm, that Aurum reciprocated. The two of them moved back into the living room, where Jaune's mother waited, now sitting in the seat Jaune had been in previously.
"So, Jaune, how are classes so far this year?" his father questioned, now sitting in his preferred chair.
Jaune had never been more excited to talk about something in his entire life.
"Classes are wonderful. Qrow Branwen is in charge of my class this year." Aurum nodded along, already knowing that. Jaune decided to have a little fun though: "He said it was you that suggested I still had to craft my own weapon."
Jaune's father sighed at that. Jaune having to get his own weapon had been a topic of debate between the two men in the family for quite some time. "Jaune, I've told you time and time again that you won't be able to rely solely on Crocea Mors, I wanted you to get your own weapon for your own go-"
"I submitted my schematics to the forge-master two weeks ago. I'll have my weapon in hand after the break." Jaune interrupted. He couldn't help but smile at the surprised look on his father's face.
He noticed his mother chuckling lightly, trying to hide her amusement from her ultimately unprepared husband.
"Bwah?"
Both Jaune and his mother burst out into laughter at the odd noise his father made.
It was good to be home.
"I made copies, want to see?"
"Of course!"
Jaune had retired to his bedroom for the night after telling his parents about how his year at Signal was going. His father had, after studying the schematics he'd sent to Signal's forgemaster, pointed out one or two flaws with the design, Jaune wincing at his own stupidity. His weapon wasn't going to be perfect, his dad had said, but it would be something else, for sure.
Jaune's room had been practically untouched since he began going to Signal, simply because its only usage was when he'd come back for the holidays each year. As such, a thin, thin layer of dust – not the volatile kind – covered nearly everything.
He put the bag of books on his nightstand, before pulling out the copy of Ninjas of Love: Recipe For Desire.
He figured he'd do some light reading before going to sleep, and check it out before he gave it to his sister. Maybe there was a recipe interesting, yet simple enough that he could try it himself? Flipping to the first page, he began reading.
As he got further and further into the first chapter, a blush began to develop on the young blond teen's face. This was not a cookbook. Gods, and that... that girl read this stuff? She wasn't wrong though – it was very... descriptive.
He'd blushed even deeper as he recalled the conversation he and the black haired girl had about the book. And about discussing their... experience. He'd thought they were talking about cooking! Not... not this!
No wonder Tukson gave him a weird look when he said he was getting this for his sister as well. No way he was giving this book to his sister. His older sister? No way. Especially not now that he'd read what was contained.
Three hours – and about half the book later – Jaune figured he should probably get some sleep; the whole family was going out tomorrow.
He'd finish the wonderful piece of literature later.
Blake. exe has crashed. Please reboot; Jaune's obliviousness fails him! (again?) I love dramatic irony and misunderstandings; two of my favorite things.
A lot of character introductions this chapter, my apologies. Maybe you guys might get some action next chapter? I'd cross my fingers, but that makes it harder to type.
BIGGER CHAPTERS, HOORAY! From here on out, i'll be making a point of extending the chapter lengths, simply because i myself haven't been satisfied with the length of my own writing.
Whether the next chapter comes out before the new year is unknown. But i'll see you guys soon, I promise! Unless i suffer some kind of life threatening injury or something. Or maybe a broken leg.
Sigh.
Updated: February 20/2017
