I (still) don't own Ruby. And to the regret of some, I don't write for it either.

I also don't own, or even possess, the skill of Paul Harvey, in prose of speaking.

(Brief) Author Note:

Tomorrow is last chapter. Usual deal- ask any questions now, and I'll include them in tomorrow's author notes.

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Oum Made a Farmer

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And Oum looked at his creation, and saw that he was simple and good, and let him go on to become a Hero despite being unsuited for War. Yet Oum had no doubts, because he knew that this one would prove as worthy as the other Seven in caring for the people of bloody Remnant. Why, you ask?

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"Pyrrha, I know I'm going through a rough time right now. But I'm not that depressed! I can always be a farmer or something."

It's the night of the roof, and Pyrrha Nikos, Champion, is all but stalking her way away as soon as she's out of sight. She's hurt and confused and still taken aback by what she's learned but most of all she's-

'Jaune, you… idiot!'

-upset.

Not hatred, not fury, but disappointment and displeasure and disbelief. Why can't he get it? Why is he so stubborn? How simple could he be, to not realize that none of them, not even her, got here on their own? She had trainers, she had (still has) a family, she thought she had him.

Heroes aren't supposed to be able to do everything on their own- that's why they have teams and teammates, that's why they have a school to learn things from teachers whose job it is to help them. That's why the statue outside Beacon has multiple figures, and not just one.

Where did he get these ideas in his head from? How ignorant was he? Was he raised in a barn or something?

And why did he consider being a farmer something less worthy?

Farmers are the foundation of civilizations. There is strength in honest hearts and weathered hands and tireless resilience to work the lands and provide the food that kingdoms would crumble without. There is power in their infinite potential- every soldier and statesman and weapon smith and administrator and petty criminal, everyone draws from the same well. Before they were those things, before they became professions and put on pretensions and pretended they had always been what they were, their ancestors were farmers who left the farm to become something else. There's a farmer behind everyone's family line, from the most privileged heiress to the lowliest civilian.

Farmers provided for them, and farmers became them, because they first existed to help the farmers. Before there were professional armies, there were farmers conscripted to protect their fields. Before there were councils and kingdoms, there were noble and women who led and rallied farmers together to defend other farmers, and it was for that reason they were considered noble in the first place. Before there were bureaucrats to administer them, there were farmers who produced the surpluses to need administering. Before there were craftsmen, there were the farmers who created their own tools and shared what they could spare.

Even Hunters and Huntresses, the only ones who could claim independent provisions and self-sufficiency, even they are tied to the farmers. The first Heroes didn't protect kingdoms or rescue princesses- the first Hunters saved farmers from evil men and wicked creatures, and were honored in return for making the land safe to raise and grow the societies that would follow the farmlands. Those Huntresses helped the farmers, and the farmers helped the Hunters in turn, and in time the two were so intermingled that there was no difference.

And even if there was- even if there were no Hunters or Huntresses about- then some day some brave farmer would stand up for what was right, might even win, and when he did he would be honored as a Hero all the same as those who had never known anything but the Hunt. Even if they never went back- even they never returned to plough their fields or care for their crops- those farmers who became heroes remembered their fellow farmers, who never forgot the most humble of peoples, and who played a vital part in linking the strongest of people to the humblest. They could make the best of Hunters, as good as those who were raised and trained from the youngest of ages and knew nothing else.

To be ashamed of farmers, to belittle the foundation of civilization itself, is to be ashamed and belittle the societies they created. No Hunter or Huntress, no protector of the people or well-intentioned advocate, should ever dismiss the smallest of people who were what the greatest of us were made from. There were, quite simply, the entire reason schools for Heroes existed in the first place.

No one should dishonor the simple farmer and treat them like less- so why would Jaune? That was why she was angry, and not just hurt or upset at little white lies or a compromise of integrity and the lack of trust.

She could forgive a friend, she could train a novice, but how could she believe that Jaune was meant to be a Hero if he didn't even have faith in himself as the sort of person Huntsmen and Huntresses existed to protect?

She didn't know how. So she thought. She tried to figure it out. She remembered a distant memory, though it required some studying in the library until she found what she was looking for. And she waited for her chance, waited for the right time, willing to outlast the seasons if need be.

(He succeeds well before then, of course. With a little help- a little nudge at the right time- but mostly by his own character and nature he stops being just a boy born in a barn and takes his first step towards being something… not better, but something equally worthy and respectable and of his own volition.)