Author's Notes

Surprise! I had some extra time this Thanksgiving break to write this chapter.

As always, please leave a review: anything and everything helps. Thank you so much!


Chapter Seven

Ruby poured a generous serving of ale into Yang's mug and smiled to herself. Tonight's supper would be mashed potatoes infused with a dab of salted butter, steamed carrots with diced garlic, and rabbit stew. While the two of them had been very frugal and modest in their meals, Ruby could not help but treat themselves for the past few days. Maybe it was the record-breaking buck, or maybe it was something else, but Ruby felt more secure. She felt more optimistic about her and her sister's financial wellbeing.

She clapped her hands together. It was time to eat! Ruby made her way over to the blacksmith's house. The meal had taken a little over two hours; surely Yang had finished whatever she was working on by now. Ruby pushed the door open. The lantern was lit and the furnace still burned bright, but the blacksmith was nowhere in sight.

"Yang?" Ruby called out as she went to the entrance of the shop. "Where are you?" Ruby fidgeted with her apron straps as she nervously scanned the empty, dark street in front of Celica Ironworks. "Oh!" Ruby pulled her hood over her head and breathed into her hands. It was cold.

The Huntress walked back into the house and began to search. She wasn't in the living room, cellar, or even her room. Ruby bit her nails. Where could Yang have gone? Surely if she left, she would have told her sister first. Ruby returned to the kitchen and covered the dishes. She thought about where she could have gone. Had she gone to Nora's? Or Blake's? But she had already did the errands for her. Ruby's mind began to drift.

Blood. There was so much blood. Yang. Where are you? Blood. There was so much blood.

"Ah!" a voice called out loudly. Ruby shot her attention to where the sound came from: the back of the house. She promptly dashed into the blacksmith's house, grabbed the lantern, and proceeded to rush to the back. She turned the knob on the lantern so it focused the light forwards in a straight pattern.

"Yang?!" Ruby called out desperately. She panned the lantern from right to left until her light reflected off of something gold.

"Shine that somewhere else" the voice whined. Ruby lowered the light to see Yang naked inside the wooden barrel the sisters used for bathing. The blacksmith shivered as she scrubbed herself vigorously with a wash cloth. Ruby let out a mixed scoff of anger and relief. She shook her head as she approached the tub and dipped a hand into the water, only to withdraw it with a yelp.

"It's freezing!"

"Y-y-you d-don't say?" Yang asked incredulously. "W-what are you doing out h-here?"

Ruby raised an eyebrow. "Wha- I was looking for you! Why are you taking a bath so late at night, and cold water on top of that?"

Yang continued to scrub at her body. "U-Using hot water would h-have taken too long. And b-besides I got-" Yang paused; her eyes shifted back and forth between Ruby and her hands. "-I got really dirty."

Ruby leaned closer to Yang. The blacksmith flinched as the Huntress sniffed in her direction. "Yang..." Ruby stared at her older sister. Yang drifted to the back of the barrel and looked down at her murky reflection in the water.

"Ruby, I-I can explain-"

"You smell like iron."

"Wha-" Yang gulped hard. She began to stutter. "W-Well, yeah!" Yang played with her hair. "I had an accident with the furnace, the-the chimney got backed up and I-"

"Shhh!" Ruby poked Yang's cheeks. "Just get cleaned up. I'll go back and reheat supper."

Yang sank deeper into the freezing water as she watched her younger sister skip back towards the house.


Yang came in from her bath shortly after. She apologized profusely for making Ruby worried, but the Huntress didn't mind. The meal had been reheated, and that's all that mattered to her; they were together and they had something to eat.

Supper was difficult. Yang downed three mugs of ale within the first few minutes of sitting down to eat. When Ruby asked if she was okay, Yang replied "I'm just really thirsty." Right when she thought Ruby was going to ask another question, she pointed to the potato bread on the table and let out a childish giggle. "Is that for me?" The blacksmith let out an internal cry of relief when Ruby shifted her attention to the bread that Nora had given to them free of charge; which led to discussions about Blake, and then the Autumn Festival.

She felt sick to her stomach. The sweetness of the carrots and the bitterness of the ale amalgamated with the sound of her sister's laughter and the sound of her own racing heartbeat to create a terrifying, grotesque, feeling of limbo.

Nauseous, the blacksmith excused herself to the outhouse where she vomited repeatedly. She returned after having taken her anger out against the wooden walls; stopping before her knuckles turned raw.

Yang survived the rest of supper through the use of smiles; forced and genuine.

After supper, she volunteered to do the dishes. While the chestnuts roasted by the fire, Ruby sat close by and massaged her sore neck. Yang knew it was difficult to track rabbits, and it was even harder to follow through with the kill. Ruby told her that the traps came up empty again, so she decided to hunt on foot. It was a tedious process, as rabbits had a higher sense of perception. Ruby let out a groan, her neck hurt a lot.

"What's the matter?" Yang asked curiously as she walked into the living room while rubbing her knuckles.

"I shouldn't be complaining, but my neck is sore." Ruby said guiltily.

Yang smirked and knelt beside Ruby. "Move over a bit."

"Haah?"

Yang pulled the chair closest to her to rest her back against. She then pulled Ruby towards her so that her head rested against Yang's chest. "There, much better," Yang said with a relaxed sigh. "Show me where it hurts."

Ruby touched the sides of her neck. "Around here."

Yang began to massage Ruby's neck carefully. The skin on her hands had turned rough from years of abuse of hammer and anvil, but it didn't stop her from trying. Minutes of silence passed until a soft hand gently rested upon Yang's hand.

"Yang?" the Huntress asked quietly.

"What is it?"

Ruby sighed. "There was-" Yang felt her sister's fingers grip her hands more tightly. "-a murder today."

Yang's hands froze. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly; her heart pounded. Time seemed to slow down and the fire's heat seemed to burn brighter. Beads of sweat rolled down her temples. She braced herself.

Ruby turned around and buried herself between Yang's bosom and arms. "Someone from the miner's guild was found dead today. I-I saw his body, Yang." Ruby spoke faster; her voice had a feverish dryness to it. "Pyrrha and some of the other guards found him in the middle of the street and there was just so much blood and, and I've never seen someone dead before and when I couldn't find you in the shop I just got so worried and I-"

"I'm sorry, Ruby." Yang touched foreheads with Ruby; causing the latter to cry. "I'm sorry."

Ruby wiped her eyes and inhaled deeply before letting it all out as once. "It's okay. You just really scared me."

"I'm not going anywhere" Yang whispered as she grabbed a blanket from the chair behind her and draped it over their bodies. Ruby turned back to face the fire as Yang tucked the blanket around her legs and arms. "And I won't let anything change that."

The fire cracked weakly as it began to die down. "Are you warm enough? Do you want more wood in the fire?" Ruby asked quietly.

"I'm fine. Do you want more?"

Ruby shook her head. "I'm okay."

Yang wrapped her arms around Ruby and squeezed. Ruby's body stiffened. "I-I just don't understand. Why would someone want to kill someone else?"

"He or she might have had a reason." Yang's voice grew low. "Maybe they got into an argument. Or the killer was wronged." Yang's knuckles cracked as she clenched her fists. "Maybe they were angry."

"I hope whoever did it is caught-," Ruby paused to swallow. "-so they can't do it anymore."

"Yeah, I hope they get caught too."

Minutes of silence passed by. Yang inhaled and exhaled as quietly as possible as she struggled to keep her heart rate under control. She consoled her sister about the murder of a man they both didn't know and reassured her that she hoped the culprit would be brought to justice. And what did she do herself? Terribly hypocritical. Yang bit her lips and fought the tears. She couldn't let Ruby know. Everything she did was for her sister. Without Ruby, she was nothing.

"Yang?"

"What is it Ruby?" Yang managed to say with a straight tone.

"I don't want to go hunting tomorrow. I want to stay here." Ruby gently squeezed Yang's hands. "I want to stay with you."

Yang squeezed her sister's hands back as her answer. They spent the rest of the night in each other's arms until dawn, long after the last ember of the fire died out.

They had forgotten about the chestnuts.


"That old fart hit me square in the jaw!" Gregory Halacre complained as he moved his jaw from left to right.

"Well, he is a blacksmith," Jaune reasoned. "Hitting things is what he does for a living."

The other guard laughed. "It's kind of embarrassing. Three guards against an old man who was tied up and we still had trouble getting him to headquarters."

"I just hope Yang's alright. I haven't had time to check up on her because of my shifts."

The guards made a turn to another street. It was early in the morning, the air was crisp and cool. Gregory took a deep breath and let it out happily. "I wouldn't worry if I were you, that Yang girl is tougher than you think. Whatever it was last night, I'm sure she's over- oof!"

A short figure collided into Gregory, which sent the both of them straight to the ground. Jaune reacted quickly; he pushed the attacker off of his partner and drew his sword. "W-What do you think you're doing?" he demanded nervously.

Upon closer inspection, the attacker was a girl and she was clothed in inappropriate attire for the public eye. She covered her face as she hyperventilate cried. Gregory scrambled to his feet and grabbed the handle of his sword, but relinquished his hold on it. "Jaune, put your weapon away." Jaune shifted his attention to Gregory and then back to her girl twice before obeying. He remained cautious as he and Gregory approached the wailing girl. "Miss, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" The guard's loud and deep voice seemed to startle the girl even more as her wails grew louder.

Jaune knelt beside the girl and slowly put his hand on her shoulder. The girl flinched but didn't push it away. "Miss, are you okay? Why are you crying?" Jaune asked as calmly as he could. The girl lowered her hands from her face. The girl couldn't have been older than 16 years old. She wiped at her face and tried to speak, but her heavy breathing made it difficult for her. Jaune loosened the metal glove from his armor and used his bare hand to pat the girl's shoulder.

"It's okay miss," Gregory whispered. "You're safe with us."

The girl looked at Gregory and nodded. She then focused her attention back at Jaune. "Th-" She took a deep breath and shivered. "Th-Th-Thru-Thru-Thrush."

Gregory narrowed his eyes. "Thrush? Landlord Thrush?" Gregory asked suddenly, suddenly forgetting to keep his voice quiet.

The girl flinched and covered her face. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't punish me. I'm a good girl! I'm a good girl..," the girl begged.

Jaune bit his lip and shook his head. "What about Landlord Thrush, miss?"

The girl's eyes went wide and the pitch of her voice dropped. "Blood."

Chills went down Jaune's spine as he looked at Gregory. "Landlord Thrush might be in danger." Jaune locked his metal glove back into place and stood up. "He might be in danger!"

"We don't know that for sure," Gregory reminded. He stood up and leaned in towards Jaune. "We don't know if she's telling the truth."

"I have to find out. I'm going to the Thrush residence."

Jaune began to walk the opposite direction but Gregory's hand caught his arm. "You're not going alone, Jaune. If you go, I go."

Jaune half smiled, but returned his gaze back to the girl who was still heavily breathing. "We need someone to hold onto her for us." Jaune pivoted and looked around him, but the entire street was empty.

"Tsk. Wait here." Gregory jogged to the closest residence and began to pound on the door. "Vermilion Garrison! Open up!" He knocked harder and repeated himself. Just as he was about to repeat himself for the third time, a bald man in grey night robe opened the door with squinting eyes.

"What's going on?" he asked confusedly.

Gregory beckoned, and Jaune picked up the girl and brought her to the old man. "We need you to look after this girl for a while. We will be back to sort this out." Gregory looked the old man straight in the eye. "Have I made myself clear?"

The old man rubbed his eyes. "Y-Yes, sir! I understand!" The sleepiness in his voice was gone.

"Good. Thank you for your cooperation. Let's go, Jaune."

The two guards nodded appreciation to the old man as he showed the girl into house. It wasn't long before they reached the lord's residence. Gregory didn't know where the man lived, but Jaune did. He knew where Thrush lived as he once had to deliver a payment to the man as a favor to Yang. She asked Jaune to deliver a mortgage payment one month when she was ill and Ruby was busy with hunting. Naturally, Jaune agreed to do the blacksmith a favor and followed the written directions to Thrush's residence.

He didn't like the man. His breath stank of ale and he was perhaps the most vulgar man Jaune ever had the displeasure of meeting. But that didn't matter now. He was still under Vermilion's protection. Jaune pushed open the steel gate to the residence and jogged to the front door. It was open. Gregory put a hand on Jaune's shoulder. "Let me go first."

The duo entered the residence. It was dirty, just as Jaune had remembered it last time. Despite being a very wealthy man, Thrush only had three rooms; a kitchen, a fireplace room, and a bedroom. "This place is a dump."

Empty kegs and ale bottles littered the floor. The guards had to sweep aside the bottles with their boots to prevent creating broken glass. "Jaune!" Gregory called out suddenly. Jaune kicked aside some more bottles and walked over to his partner.

"What is it?"

"Blood." Gregory pointed to the bottom of the staircase which led to the single bedroom upstairs. There, on the steps were drops of dried blood. Gregory closed the visor to his helmet and drew his sword slowly. "Be careful, Jaune," he breathed. "Something rotten has happened here."

Jaune swallowed hard as he closed the visor to his helmet and drew his sword. He followed Gregory up the stairs, one by one, keeping an eye out for his partner. As they ascended step-by-step they stepped further into a nightmare. Drips turned into puddles and smudges on the wall turned to hand prints. Then they finally reached the top of the stairs and stopped right in front of the door. Gregory looked Jaune in the eye and nodded. Jaune blinked his sweat away and nodded back. The senior guard let out a yell and kicked the door in, and Jaune rushed after him.

The former scanned the room, sword at the ready to confront the possible intruder. No intruder. Just red. On the ground, on the walls, on the ceiling. He then turned to face the bed. "Oh, my god." Gregory whispered. "Oh, my god." Jaune took one glance and screamed. His sword fell from his grip as his hands fell to his sides, numb. Together they stared in horror at the mangled corpse strung up high above the bed.


Warden Schnee stared at his reflection in the glass of wine he held in his hands. He wore a red tunic over his torso, black silk leggings, and a beowolf hide draped over his shoulders. Even at 58 years of age, the man was powerfully built and stood at a solid 6'0. A trimmed beard and mustache gave him a sophisticated, yet wild look. "What you are telling me, is the absolute truth, Halacre?"

"Yes, Warden! I swear it!" Gregory answered.

"I see." The Warden beckoned to Pyrrha Nikos.

The Commander walked over to him and gave a curt bow. "Yes, Warden?"

"What do you think?" he asked, still swirling his glass of wine.

"I know both of them very well. Halacre and Arc would not lie." She glanced at Halacre who was sweating profusely, and then to Jaune, who looked absolutely aghast. "Although, there are no Grimm in Vermilion."

"Of course the Grimm didn't murder Thrush," Schnee muttered. "A human did this." He raised his glass and finished the rest of his wine. "I think we have a contestant for the Colosseum among us."

"Glass!" A butler quickly made his way over to the Warden and took the empty glass away from him. The Warden stroked his mustache and made his way back to the center of the small briefing hall. "Guards," he enunciated. "Upon hearing the first-hand accounts of Halacre and Arc, it seems that we're dealing with a very dangerous killer!" The Warden raised his voice. "I want the one responsible brought in front of me immediately! Guards of Vermilion, attention!

All the guards assembled clicked their heels together, including Gregory, Jaune, and Pyrrha.

"Attention!" they shouted in unison.

"Guards of Vermilion!" He pointed to the flag that hung directly above him with the Schnee family's insignia. "Recite your sacred oath!"

"We are Weischandel's honorable shield and its righteous sword! From Dawn till Dusk we will serve our Warden with unwavering loyalty and protect his people with vehement zeal! Dust is what we shall return to the earth when we have vanquished those who seek to destroy us! Long Live Weischandel!"

Schnee nodded and smiled. "You are dismissed!"

The guards exited and when they had all one, Schnee turned to Pyrrha, the only remaining person in the hall besides him. "Walk with me, Commander."

"Yes, Warden."

She followed the Warden out of the briefing hall and through the intricate maze of hallways. The warden's manor was on a hill that was elevated above the entire rest of the village. Paintings, awards, and even stuffed Grimm heads decorated the otherwise bland, cold walls. They stopped in front of a door. The Warden rubbed his mustache, then spoke. "Please, Commander. Do not speak unless told to do so."

"Yes, Warden."

Schnee pushed open the door. Together they stepped inside and Pyrrha closed the door quietly behind them. In front of them was a duel. A clean-shaven man dressed in a white tunic and trousers with black boots went on the offensive as he slashed aggressively with a rapier towards his opponent. The shorter girl retreated as she parried the hits with the same weapon while she kept her right foot forward, and her stance firm and secure.

The man was Federico Milan, the Schnee family's personal combat instructor. He was the sixth instructor to be hired by the Warden to teach his daughter in the art of combat. Each instructor hired specialized in a different sword fighting technique. When he or she had nothing more to teach to his daughter, or when the Warden's daughter was easily capable of defeating her instructor in combat, they were let go.

Pyrrha eyed the girl. The girl was Weiss Schnee, the seventeen year old daughter of Warden Schnee; his one and only child. She wore a white thigh-length dress with a thin white overcoat that cut off at her bust; the dress turned slightly blue near the wrists and the waist. At the waist she wore a white-blue ribbon that wrapped into a tie in front. The inside of the overcoat was crimson red and had a small black lacing also at the bust. Her white boots that went to mid-calf were elevated to train her sense of balance.

Weiss's eyes drifted to her left onto Pyrrha and her father for a beat, and then back to her opponent. Her white hair flowed gracefully as it was kept in a ponytail to the back-right of her head. There a transparent ice-like tiara held it in place. She parried a blow by her opponent and took a daring step forward. Pyrrha smiled. While it prevented her hair from obstructing her view from her left eye, which had a long jagged scar that ran from her eyebrow to the tip of her cheek, the way she decided to wear her hair was actually to send a message.

Weiss launched a flurry of counterattacks at a blinding speed, taking solid steps forward while she did. Federico's eye twitched as he struggled to parry the oncoming attacks as well as attempting to hold his ground. He could not hold her. He took a step back, and then another, and then another. Pyrrha assumed that the instructor knew that defeat was inevitable as he took a suicidal lunge at the girl's heart, exposing himself in more ways than one. Weiss sidestepped the lunge and slipped the tip of her blade into the handle of his rapier and flung it upwards. She brought the tip of her rapier and gently pressed it against Federico's throat. A beat later, his rapier landed blade down, right in front of the Warden's feet. Weiss looked her father dead in the eye. "Checkmate," she said firmly.

Warden Schnee nodded to Pyrrha. "Outstanding job, Weiss." The Commander complimented as she clapped politely.

Weiss curtsied and sheathed her blade. She then walked to the where Federico's blade was lodged into the wooden floor, and without breaking eye contact with her father, pulled it free and returned it back to her instructor.

"Incredible. Simply incredible." Federico said with his accent. "Warden Schnee, your daughter has bested me in the way of the sword which I was born and raised with."

"How many times?" He asked bluntly.

Federico looked to Weiss, who mouthed something to her. She nodded in approval. "Your daughter has bested me six times now."

Pyrrha felt the anger emanate from the Warden standing beside her. "Six times, eh? That's. Quite. Impressive."

"Father," Weiss spoke. Her voice was clear and refined, and like her father, it was full of conviction and authority. "You gave me your word. When I surpassed the skill of my sixth instructor, you would-"

"No," the Warden interrupted. "You are not ready."

Weiss looked as if she had been slapped. Federico noticed. "Warden Schnee, I would like your permission to speak." He asked slowly with his peculiar accent.

"What is it, Milan?" Schnee replied gruffly.

"Your daughter is skilled." Federico paused and then look at Weiss. He shook his head. "No, your daughter is an exceptionally skilled. It is my humble opinion and belief that whatever it was that you promised her in the past you should fulfill."

"So," Schnee hissed. "You've discussed my private affairs with my daughter?

Weiss let out a surprised scoff. "Father, he has the right-"

"Silence!" Schnee snapped. The Warden marched to Federico, and looked down at the slightly shorter man. "Pack your things, instructor. It's time you left."

The foreign instructor digested the words slowly. He looked to Weiss and then back to the Warden. He nodded. "Yes, Warden. I will take my leave." He gave a strange, yet curt bow to the Warden, and then to Weiss. The red in her cheeks from anger faded as he approached her. "It has been a pleasure, my heiress." The instructor sheathed his rapier and then quickly exited the room, closing the doors quietly behind him.

"Commander Pyrrha." Schnee turned his attention back to Weiss. "Please leave me to my daughter."

"Yes, of course." Pyrrha bowed and left the room.

She waited by the door and focused her attention to the grandeur of the hall, but it was impossible not to overhear voice of a Schnee: their voices were made to be heard.

"Father, I have the right to prepare myself to take responsibility for Vermilion!"

"That right is mine, and mine only."

"You didn't say that when mother was still alive."

"How dare you!"

"How dare you! How can you give me your word and then not follow through? How many other lies have you told?"

"I'm doing this for your own good!"

"How is it for my own good? I am your heiress, I need to be properly trained to lead Vermilion when you're gone!"

"I'm fit to rule for another twenty years. When I have a hunch to my back or when I can't ride a horse anymore, then it will be time."

There was a long pause. Then Weiss spoke slowly, enunciating every word. "You really must like having me trapped in here, like a little porcelain doll. Well. I won't have it. I deserve better than this."

"Weiss, get back here! This instant!"

Pyrrha backed away from the door as she heard footsteps approach. The doors flung open and Weiss stormed out with her rapier gripped tightly in her hand. The white-haired noble glanced at Pyrrha, who reciprocated. The former stepped right in front of Pyrrha, looked her in the eyes, and scoffed. She shook her head in disappointment. "Take off the leash, Pyrrha. You'll thank me later." And just like that, Weiss disappeared around the corner of a hallway; the sound of her footsteps echoed soundly throughout the hallways.

Warden Schnee exited the room and slammed the doors shut. He turned to Pyrrha. "You didn't hear a word from us," he muttered.

"Yes, Warden," Commander Pyrrha Nikos of the Vermilion Garrison replied. "I didn't hear a word."