Here we go. I am becoming somewhat used to the splint on my wrist, and it does help alleviate the pain. I'm also catching the mistakes I make, including accidentally listing my cover art as being done by "Fishwasher" this week.
To be fair, the D and the F key are close xD
Beta: College Fool
Cover Art: Dishwasher1910
Book 4: Chapter 7
We were on the road within ten minutes, and deep in conversation soon after. Even with the promise of some disaster scene ahead, it wasn't possible to stay glum. Or perhaps it was just that we wanted to believe that was the case, and sought to bury ourselves in lighter things.
"So," Weiss said. "The people of Mistral consider the King a God?"
"It's more complicated than that," Pyrrha said. "Mistral is something of a Theocratic Monarchy. The religion and the monarchy are intertwined; with both being pretty much the same thing. The King is the head of the religion, but it's a ceremonial position. The royal family handle their aspects, and the Temple handles theirs."
"But he's seen as God."
"Not literally…" The Champion sighed and ran a hand through her hair, trying to find the right words. "It's more like the King is the voice of God, or an avatar."
"Do people actually believe that?" Yang asked, interested.
"I don't think so, at least not really. I don't, anyway. But it doesn't matter, since all of Mistral still remains loyal to the religion and the royal family." She shrugged. "It's just sort of what we are. The people here are loyal. Loyalty is taught from childhood."
"Why?"
"B-Because we just are. I can't explain it. It's how we're raised, and it's not like the Temples are useless. People go there all the time for celebrations, advice or worship. It's a way of bringing people together. Is it really any less ridiculous than people from Vale just accepting their rulers because they were born into the position?"
It wasn't exactly like that, but I could see her point. I'd never really thought about the royals back home, since however they ruled, it never really made a difference to Ansel, and Beacon was practically ruled by Ozpin.
"It has a more practical use, too," Pyrrha continued. "Faith provides hope for the people, and hope is a weapon against the Grimm. That's what my parents used to say, anyway."
"But wouldn't that be fake hope?" Weiss asked.
"Better fake than none," Blake whispered.
Pyrrha overheard. "Exactly. The Grimm don't make a distinction between the two, and you saw how happy the villagers in Celes were during the festival. Does it really matter if they were happy just because the King asked them to be? It still keeps the people safe."
Weiss huffed. "I suppose. It just feels so… naïve…"
"Well, at least the King here is helping," Ruby pointed out, still chipper from seeing everyone so happy in Celes. "I mean, yeah, I can see what you're saying about it forcing them to be happy, but at least the King is trying to protect people, right? He's trying to be a Hero."
"It's the results that usually matter," Qrow said, joining the conversation even as he trekked at the front of our formation. "Still, motives don't hurt, and at least they sound like they're in the right place."
"The monarchy is well-respected here," Pyrrha agreed. "That's something you'll need to remember. I'm not offended by you asking, but others might be. This isn't Atlas."
"And Atlas had its own weird customs as well," Ren agreed. "Sentinels, Mage superiority and such…"
Weiss' cheeks flushed, and she crossed her arms. "I never claimed otherwise."
"Okay, okay," I laughed. "Let's have a little peace, guys. I guess we're all curious, but we don't have the right to criticise Mistral or Pyrrha's culture." The Champion smiled gratefully at me, and I nodded back. "Besides, it's like Ruby says. However strange it seems to us, it's mostly focused on protecting people. It's worked in Celes, so let's not judge."
I wasn't personally sure what I felt about it all. There wasn't really much religion in Vale, though I knew some people worshipped the Twins, and others had their own minor deities. A part of me chafed at the idea of something being forced on me, but then again, I didn't know if that was the case here or not. At the end of the day, it was none of my business.
Still, it did explain a little about how strict the country was. Religions tended to have fairly indomitable rules and guidelines, of which crossing them was considered a transgression. If those included a person's place in the Caste System, and it seemed like it would, then Pyrrha's comments about rigid inflexibility made sense.
For her, however, it would be very different from myself. I'd be locked as a Blacksmith, expected to make farm tools and simple weaponry until the end of my days. Pyrrha would live in a different world, considered the best of the best, and likely worshipped for her Prestige Class status. Come to think of it, she did say the reason she left was because she was asked to be the bodyguard of the Crown Prince or something.
Maybe the pressure had gotten to her. In Vale, she could just be Pyrrha Nikos, but here, she was expected to be so much more. As a Champion, she was to be a symbol. She was probably expected to never fail, to be all but invincible; an untouchable figure at the height of power. And we knew her as a friend and part of our small family. No one had it easy. Not even those at the top.
"Uncle Qrow, can't you scout ahead in your bird form?" Ruby asked.
"I could," the Druid said, "but it would mean leaving you lot behind while I did."
And he didn't want to do that because he was worried about us being hurt or something. Well, that or he was worried about Ruby and Yang getting hurt. Out of everyone, I was probably the most in danger, though it was due to how unequipped I was right now. Instead of my usual suit of armour, which now lay on the bottom of the ocean, I had just a pair of brown trousers and a pale, red tunic. Qrow had bought a light brown cloak from Celes for me, but the weather wasn't cold enough to warrant it. Either way, my sudden lightness made marching easy, but probably wouldn't fare so well in combat. My ability to tank had been sabotaged even more.
Despite that, I felt confident in meeting the Druid's eyes and nodding. "We'll be fine," I said. With Blake and Pyrrha here, we had strength aplenty, and there hadn't been any Grimm in sight since we'd started.
Qrow looked over us all, but eventually nodded. "Okay, fine. Some ground rules, though. You don't leave the road, and you don't wander off – even if someone needs your help." The latter he said with a stern look towards Ruby. "If you lot get lost, I might never find you again. If something does happen, then start a fire when you're safe and make sure it gives off a lot of smoke. I'll find it."
Once he had our promises that we'd follow the rules (and the road), the Druid stepped away from the group and whispered some chant under his breath. The transformation was a speedy thing, and didn't seem to involve anything gruesome like I'd originally imagined. If his skeletal structure had to change, it was a quick and not particularly painful thing, for he didn't make a sound. It took less than five seconds, accompanied by nothing more than a brief flicker of light.
A few more seconds for him to catch his bearings, and then the little bird was off, lifting up into the air as it sought out and used the thermals to ascend.
"That's handy," Nora said. "I wish I could fly…"
"I think we all do," Ren chuckled. "Sadly, I've never heard of a Barbarian Skill to accomplish it." Nora grumbled and punched his arm for that, and Ren laughed apologetically. I couldn't help but agree. Life would certainly be easier if we could all take to the air.
"Well, we should be off," Yang said, taking the lead. "The only thing Qrow's going to give us is a little scouting. We still need to make the march there."
"The roads are empty," Blake pointed out. "Trade caravans should have travelled by now."
"We've not passed a single traveller," Weiss added.
None of those things boded well, and I doubted I'd been the only one to notice how worried the Soldier Caste members at the gates of Celes had looked. Not worried for themselves, but rather troubled and concerned – anxious because something wasn't right. They knew as well, it seemed. It might be a day or two before an official search party was sent – mostly because people would make up their own excuses and reasons. Maybe the people didn't have anything to trade. Maybe it was a late harvest. Maybe they were busy celebrating something. The mind always leapt to the reasonable explanations first. As those dwindled away, the panic would set in.
But by then, we'd have our own answers. Hopefully…
"How bad do you think it is?" I asked Blake in a low voice. She didn't bat an eye as I slid up beside her. She glanced towards the others to make sure they weren't listening, and replied in an equally quiet whisper.
"I don't think it's good, Jaune. The people I spoke to… they were criminals, but they were efficient ones. Smuggling operations, illegal couriers, that kind of thing." She didn't go into detail on what exactly they smuggled, but that wasn't my business – nor was it, I imagined, hers. They wouldn't have told her.
"And you think their words can be trusted?"
She nodded. "They want answers as much as we do, so I doubt they would deceive us on purpose. Certainly, they wouldn't try to fool me. I recognised one of them."
"Someone you knew?"
"A long time ago, yes. He was… is something of an old friend. Not of myself, but…" She shook her head. "The point is that he wouldn't lie, and he was quick to fill me in on what he knew. They sent a courier to collect something from one of their men in this place, and he was supposed to come back. It was a young Thief, but he was a Hero nonetheless. He should have been able to defeat some Grimm, or at least outrun them."
"It could be bandits," I suggested.
"Is that any better of an outcome?"
No, not really. I sighed and looked ahead, wishing something would appear over the horizon. Nothing did. There were many miles yet, and the terrain was hilly, concealing much from view.
"Whatever the situation, it was enough to stop him from being able to return, and these people are good, Jaune. It would take something very serious to bother them."
"Okay, I trust you. I didn't mean to make it sound like I didn't."
Blake glanced at me from the corner of one eye, but she didn't seem offended. It wasn't that I lacked faith in her, but that I wasn't so sure about people who explicitly admitted to being criminals. Blake was an Assassin, but I judged her by her character, and that held no hint of malice. Those smugglers, however? They'd chosen to be what they were.
Still, that didn't mean they were incompetent. If anything, the fact their shipments had gone missing was just a sign of how bad this was.
"Does it remind you of Atlas?" I whispered. I didn't want anyone to hear my fears.
Blake's eyes closed, and the soft sigh she let out was filled with sorrow. "Yes. I'd thought that myself. I hope… I…"
I touched her hand, and she brushed her fingers against mine. "I know," I said. "Me, too."
We both hoped it was nothing more than a coincidence.
A loud `Caw` distracted us before we could continue, and I looked up with the others as a dark shape descended at incredible speed. There was no mistaking who it was and we made space quickly. The crow pulled off from its dive and transformed into a human half-way through, the taller man landing easily and staggering only a pace or two before he came to a stop.
"Uncle Qrow?" Ruby gasped. "You've barely been-"
"No time," he snapped. "We're pushing on at a fast run. Get moving." The urgency in his voice spoke more of what he'd seen than his words. There were no questions. The eight of us hoisted our packs higher and steeled our expressions.
Nothing good awaited us.
/-/
We saw what had alerted Qrow long before we came upon the village. Smoke billowed into the sky over the horizon, and it was that we zeroed in on, our feet pounding against the road as we went. My first thought was that the town was on fire, but the smoke was too pale and sparse for that. Smoke from a roaring inferno burned black as night. This was faded and grey, suggesting much of the fire had winked out, and only smouldering ruins remained.
That didn't calm me down any.
As we approached, I saw the ringed walls of the settlement, little more than sharpened logs dug into the ground, their points facing upwards and a little out, creating a barrier that could skewer any large beasts which approached too quickly. There was a wooden gate as well, but that lay broken and destroyed, the frame burned down and cracked in the middle. Of the doors that would have been between it, there was no sign.
There was also no sign of people – not in person, bodies or desperate cries for help. That should have been a good thing, but it wasn't. It meant there was nothing we could do to help. Angrily, I kicked the ground in front of me, wishing I knew what to say or do. Our uselessness burned, and it wasn't just myself who looked about ready to explode.
"It's as I thought," Qrow sighed. "We're too late."
"It feels like we always are," Weiss panted, the Mage's hands on her knees. The sprint had all but drained her, and Ruby hovered nearby, ready to catch her if she fell.
"The fire's mostly burned out," Yang said, eyes crimson as she looked over the ruins. "This could have happened over a day ago, to be honest. If the whole place was made of wood, it could have burned for hours."
"And smoke lingers," Ren agreed. "No amount of running faster would have brought us in time to stop this. Otherwise, I imagine Mr Branwen would have done so himself."
The Druid nodded to confirm it. He'd seen the smoke, no doubt, but it was already too late by then. We'd have needed to arrive a few days ago, and there was no telling if we'd have been able to protect the village anyway. We had no idea what had done this. Greycloaks came immediately to mind, but that was dangerous thinking. It could have been any number of things, Grimm included.
"Pyrrha. What kind of protections would a place like this have?" I asked.
"There's no standardised layout," the Champion replied, "but at the very least there would have been a militia formed of members of the Soldier Caste. Unlike Vale, Mistral spreads its military out over the Kingdom, with small detachments in each and every village, town or city. How many might have been here, I can't say, but they would be enough to defend the village against any normal threats. There wouldn't be much point to them, otherwise."
What normal threats meant was up in the air. Grimm might be considered normal, but it was possible they'd struck in larger numbers than expected and overwhelmed the defences. Similarly, there were some bandits who numbered in groups of three and five, and others that might be in the hundreds.
"Would they have had any way to call for help?" Qrow asked.
"Not if they were surrounded. Most villages have a bell tower, but that's more for alerting the residents than the outside world."
"I take it there's a usual way of calling for aid."
"A messenger would be sent," Pyrrha said. "Usually someone fast, and probably from the Soldier Caste so they can protect themselves. Any of the nearby towns and villages would then be honour-bound to dispatch what forces they could to help. Celes would have been included in that, though…"
"And they didn't know about it," I finished for her. "Great. Whatever happened here, it was sudden. The defenders didn't have any time to call for aid."
"Sudden and effective," Qrow said, placing a hand on the wooden frame of the gate and pushing. It creaked, but remained strong. The same couldn't be said for much else. "Grimm would have broken the doors down, and that would have dragged the frame with it. The walls are intact."
"And Grimm don't care for strategy," Ren said, realising what the Druid meant. "Grimm would have thrown themselves at any spot until the village fell, but if the walls are in one piece, that means they weren't focused on. This was done by humans."
"Monsters by another name," Qrow agreed. "Looks like Mistral isn't fully aware of this yet, so we've got a prime opportunity to take a look around before they mess up any of the evidence. We should see if we can't find anything."
"And people, right?" Ruby asked.
Qrow's expression made it clear he didn't expect to find any. "And people," he said, regardless.
In the end, Qrow decided it would be best if we slit up into smaller groups to look around. While the village wasn't a large one, there was still a lot of ground to cover, and we didn't have much time for it. The longer we waited, the more chance there was any evidence might be washed over.
"Watch out for Grimm," he said, his weapon drawn as he watched them. "Whatever happened here clearly wasn't good, so we can expect a lot of negativity around. I'm surprised we're not being swarmed by Grimm right now."
"It is odd," Weiss said, her own rapier drawn. She'd managed to catch her breath, though her cheeks were red and a thin sheen of sweat covered her face. "You would expect at least a few Grimm to have accosted us as we approached. To see none…?"
"Is impossible," Pyrrha finished.
"It's like they've been cleared out," Yang said. "You think Mistral already purged the area?"
"Maybe, but then wouldn't the guards at Celes have known…?"
"Whatever the case, I don't want any risks," Qrow interrupted, bringing the focus back to the task at hand. "Small groups, but no one goes around on their own. I want a tank with each, too. Jaune, Ren and Blake – you're together. Pyrrha, Yang and Weiss as the second, and I'll take Ruby and Nora for my group." He waited for everyone to sort themselves out before he continued. "Spread out and search, but stay within a short distance of one another. No one – and I mean no one – is to step out of eyesight. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," I said, my voice echoed by everyone else.
"Good. Now, let's get this over with."
Qrow took Ruby and Nora off in one direction, while the other three left in another, leaving us with the current area, and somewhere off towards the eastern edge of the village. I wasn't sure I'd have wandered off even without Qrow's warnings, but I had a feeling that was more for certain members of our group anyway, probably why he'd chosen to keep Ruby with him. The village was mostly burnt to the ground at this point, but even then it didn't feel like the kind of place I'd have wandered around on my own.
Ren and Blake clearly agreed, since both hovered nearby, eyes scanning the ruins as if expecting Grimm to attack us at any moment. When none did, they only became more paranoid.
"I guess we should look around," I said, breaking the silence.
"How shall we handle this?" Ren asked.
"I guess we'll cover the streets first. We'll leave the interiors of the buildings for now, since they're mostly burnt down. If Blake takes the left, Ren the right and me the centre, we can move down the main roads together and stay in close contact."
The two seemed happy with my plan, probably because it meant we'd be within two or three metres of one another at all times. If I was being honest, that was why I'd chosen it. There was some logic to it as well, though. We were looking for evidence of Greycloaks – or at least something to provide some answers. If the people here had been killed or taken away, and I had no idea which was worse, then surely any such evidence would be in the roads themselves. At least that wouldn't have been burned away when the fires were lit.
It reminded me too much of Atlas, except that the fires had replaced snow. The villagers there had been taken, too. I recalled what had happened to them, and felt all too aware of what had befallen the people from Vale who had been taken. My hand clenched into a fist as I imagined these people facing similar fates.
What was the point? What could the Greycloaks honestly be trying to accomplish with this? It didn't make sense. I'd tried to understand it before, but this just seemed psychotic for the sake of being psychotic; evil for the fun of it. Bandits might have killed for land or loot, but at least that was understandable from a selfishness perspective. The Greycloaks didn't seem to target wealth, however. It felt more like they had a grudge against everyone. What could these people have possibly done to deserve this?
There's something missing, I thought. Some piece of information we don't have. That was probably what Ozpin wanted, and what he hoped we'd find here. If we could at least understand why they were doing this, we could counter it. We could predict where they might strike next.
At the moment, all we could do was react – always arriving too late to make a difference.
"You need to calm down," Ren said, easily noticing my mood. "If you're distracted, you'll miss something."
"I know. I'm just…"
"Angry. Yes. We all are, myself included." The Monk smiled, but it looked and felt bitter. "I have to put that away in order to pay attention, however. You will need to do so as well."
"I want to stop this, Ren." I seethed. This could have been Ansel. This… this could have been my family, oh so easily. There was no reason why they should be targeted, but the Greycloaks didn't seem to need reasons. My hand fell to the hilt of Crocea Mors, though I kept myself from drawing it. "I've never been this angry before. No, I have. This is what I felt like when we saw Glenn and Merlot. I wanted to kill them."
"I know. I did, too."
I felt a little better for knowing that, somehow. I nodded to show I understood and took a quick breath, trying to reign in my anger before I drew some Grimm to us. When Ren was happy I'd got it under control, he smiled and went back to checking his side of the road. I could feel Blake's eyes on me, and I nodded to her as well, showing I was okay.
My anger wouldn't help these people. It would only make me feel better. The best thing I could do was knuckle down and focus on finding out where these people had been taken.
Then we could save them.
Or avenge them…
Our search continued for another ten or fifteen minutes, with little more for our efforts than scraps of cloth and prints that told us someone had been or lived here, not that such information was useful. In reality, it felt like we were looking for a needle in a haystack, except that we had no idea what the needle looked like or how small it was.
Eventually, however, a strike of luck caught my eye, a large piece of cloth lying flat in the middle of the road. It was a cloak. No, it was a grey cloak.
"There!" I called, breaking ranks and rushing over. I needn't have worried about straying too far, since both Blake and Ren were faster than I, and had already caught up by the time I reached it. I knelt and drew it up, holding it out before me. My hands searched for the hood. "It is," I gasped, recognising the faint decoration about it. "It's a Greycloak's hood for sure."
"I guess that confirms this was them," Ren said. "But why would it just be lying in the middle of the road?"
"Perhaps someone dropped it," I said.
"Off their head and shoulders? While they were wearing it?"
"Ren has a point," Blake whispered. "This feels too convenient. It was placed in our path."
"But why?" I asked.
"I don't-" Blake's eyes widened. "AMBUSH!"
I had no idea what she'd seen or heard, but Blake pulled me back down flat, and it was that which saved me as a cloaked figure appeared from thin air and slashed a small curved blade towards my face. My back hit the floor, and I stared up at the person hidden behind a brown cloak, before she was tackled off of me by Ren.
"Get up," Blake hissed, gripping my shoulders. She got me half-way, but let go suddenly, turning and flinging a knife behind us. It ricocheted off something metal, and a male figure grunted in annoyance. They were behind us as well? "I'll handle him," Blake hissed. "Get up and fight!" She was gone a second later.
I didn't waste any time. Fear and panic shot through me, but instead of paralysing me, it gave me strength. I rolled to my side, drawing Crocea Mors and then cursing when I realised I didn't have a shield anymore. Nor any armour. I only had my trousers and a loose tunic. Well, that and the cloak in my hands. I glanced at it for a moment, before I noticed a third figure approaching from the front, cutting towards me with incredible speed. With a startled cry, I flung the cloak towards him – hoping to blind the person and give me an opening.
The cloak went up in flames, quickly burning down to ash before it could reach its target. He was on me a moment later.
A blade flashed up from under the figure's cloak, catching mine above the hilt and deflecting it aside. He twisted and bent at the waist, a foot coming out with incredible grace to catch me below the throat. The air was driven from my lungs and I staggered back – all the time my assailant needed to right themselves, press forward and lunge for my face.
Only instinct helped me bring my sword around in time. It was a clumsy parry, weak and desperate. Even so, the force behind the blow rocked me, forcing me back. They were strong. Very strong! I brought my sword around to the side, but rather than block it, the person kicked it aside viciously, leaving me open as they slammed the hilt of their weapon into my nose. Stars danced before my vision, but I ducked anyway – knowing the opening would be taken advantage of. I heard the whistle of steel above, and the irritated "tut" of the individual who would have beheaded me.
I took Crocea Mors with both hands and thrust up and under their guard, knowing they'd be over-extended after their miss. To my joy, it was proven so – and I could a flash of pale skin and grit teeth beneath the hood as the tip of my sword arched towards their throat. The figure slid aside at the last second, losing a bit of cloth, but little else. Their sword crashed against the side of mine, pushing it further away instead of taking the opening to hit me directly.
I was able to duck back before they could press the advantage. I kept one eye on my opponent, but allowed the other to drift towards Blake. She was by far the strongest of us, so her winning her fight and coming to back me up was my best option. To my surprise, however, she seemed to be having trouble with her opponent. Not enough to put her in danger, but enough to keep her busy. The Assassin moulded into black smoke to try and get behind her foe, but he kicked back the very moment she reformed, and she was forced to block the attack with both arms crossed before her face. He kicked off and brought his other foot around, but she ducked beneath and slashed a line across the underside of his thigh. He grunted, but landed easily and dashed after her.
Ren's fight was going no better, though the two appeared to be in a stalemate of sorts. Their hands flickered as they cut and slashed, both using small blades to try and score hits on the other. From Ren's concentration alone, it was clear his foe was good. Just how good was yet to be seen.
I had problems with my own.
She's a sword-user, but that fire was something else, I thought. My eyes scanned the words above her head. She was an Elementalist. The Class meant nothing. I'd never heard of it. Is it something to do with fire? I wondered. Is she a Mage? If so, my best bet would be to get in close. But she attacked me with a sword, and she's the one who moved into melee first. What if that's what she wants me to do?
The choice was taken out of my hands. The figure swept forwards and cut towards my head from above. When I brought Crocea Mors up to block, the opponent's blade twisted to the side, parrying mine aside and sliding down the length towards my hands. Panic shot through me and I hopped back before she could cut my fingers, but the brief exchange hadn't made me feel any better.
Attack and defence; my foe focused on both at the same time. Even the stance he took now spoke of it, the sword held in one hand above her head, but with the tip pointed down diagonally across his body. If I attacked, he could move it to cover any part of himself, and likely twist and flick around my longer sword to find purchase. My only advantage was length, and I lowered Crocea Mors into a low guard, hoping to bait the opponent in so I could take advantage of that.
If he'd let me, of course. The cloaked figure took a slow step to the left, circling around and forcing me to keep pace. I shot a worried glance in Blake's direction, afraid that my opponent might circle until he was between the two of us and then rush off to help his ally. I was slower, even without my armour. Our brief exchanges had showed that much.
I couldn't let that happen. With a loud cry, designed to alert the others if our fighting hadn't already, I charged in.
Strength was my only real boon – not Dexterity. I expected my attack to miss, especially given my opponent's skill and Agility, but when he flicked my sword to the side, I rammed my shoulder into his chest, earning a grunt of surprise and pain. I pushed onwards, taking three great steps to carry him away from Blake and Ren, and then pushing him back with a swing of my arm. In the brief moment where he'd be stunned, I swung Crocea Mors up under me, bringing it up to cut the enemy from hip to shoulder. It was a good swing, and my foe was open, their sword to the side and their feet struggling to find purchase. There would be no dodging, and that meant my Dexterity compared to their Agility wouldn't even come into it. With my Strength, I'd cut him in two.
Something flickered in the air in front of the person, however. It hovered directly in the middle of his body, and looked like smoke – or maybe the hazy phenomenon of intense heat on air. I caught it at the last second, and wasn't able to halt my attack.
Not until a wall of fire shot up between us, and I'd swung my hands directly into it.
"Arghhh!"
"Jaune!" Blake screamed.
"I'm okay!" I yelled back, determined not to distract her and get her hurt. The flames had caught my sword and hands, but the metal would last and I'd live. I drew them out with a hiss, the skin red and raw and screaming in agony. I wanted nothing more than to let go, but knew better. "Damn it," I hissed, shaking my sword instead.
The fire came from nowhere. This is definitely some kind of Mage, even if it fights in melee. It could be like Weiss. I stepped back and waited for the wall to die down. The brief thought of rushing to help the others was dismissed, my having no idea whether my opponent could attack me through the flames (or with them) the moment I turned my back.
My fear proved prophetic. The wall of fire expanded out and rushed towards me. Knowing there was no escape, I closed my eyes and dove through it, hissing at the sensation of burning that washed over me, and then forcing my eyes to open once I was on the other side. My foe was there, and I swung wildly towards him – hoping to cut him down before he could throw another spell. I'd seen enough spars with Weiss to know how this would go. Either I'd close the distance and win, or I'd fail to and lose. Or the others come and reinforce me, I added. They couldn't be far off.
It was no surprise when the Elementalist summoned more fire, but the form of it was different. It was a sword crafted solely of flames, and he danced into my guard once more, swinging it towards me.
I blocked it easily enough, but realised a second later that was the point. Despite it ostensibly not being a solid object, it did impact my sword and catch there – but sparks and flames flickered past, singing my skin and burning the air before my face. My eyes watered, but I couldn't afford to close them.
The figure chuckled and pushed forwards, and to my shock, I found myself being overwhelmed – not by fire, or magic, but by pure Strength.
He was stronger than me, too?
No…
He was a higher level; a much higher level. I was completely outclassed.
My guard broke, Crocea Mors forced to the side by the flaming blade, but it was flesh and bone and not fire that caught me – an elbow slamming into my face and knocking my head back. A firm hand settled around my wrist when I tried to recover, twisting and burning it in equal measure. I gasped as flames rushed up my arm, burning away cloth and making me scream in pain. A knee caught my stomach. The air was driven from me. Crocea Mors clattered from my hand, as did the sword from his, and the two of us were born to the ground, with me trapped beneath the other.
A fist caught my chin, stunning me, and I barely had the time to see a flash of golden eyes before hands were settled about my throat. They were still hot with fire, and it felt like the air would be burned as well as choked from me. I wrapped my own about them, my right hand heating up as I tried to burn through the figure's wrist, or to make them let go. It did nothing and the hands around my throat didn't slack.
The grip was tight. I tried to pry it off, but they were strong - stronger than even me.
"Die," the figure hissed, and even in my panic, I was surprised to realise it was a woman's voice. "For everything you've done, Greycloak!"
Greycloak?
"Not…"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Not… Greycloak," I gargled, vision dimming. "B-Beacon…"
"Beacon? Vale…?" The hands loosened. The eyes widened. The weight above me tore away, scrambling to her feet as I rolled on my side and hacked for breath. I could barely see, and kept a hand clutched to my neck as I struggled to breathe. Fortunately, my assailant didn't take advantage. "Halt!" she yelled instead. "Stop fighting! They're not Greycloaks!"
Through hazy eyes, I saw the two hooded figures back off from Blake and Ren. They ducked away carefully, clearly still anxious – not that my friends were any better. Blake took the chance for what it was and rushed towards me, one dagger extended towards my foe, who backed away with her hands held cautiously before her.
"You are the students sent from Beacon, no?" she asked.
"Who's asking?" Blake snarled, dragging me back by my tunic. I still struggled to breathe, but there was no time for coddling, and I appreciated her placing herself between us. Ren came up quickly, his own weapons drawn, his eyes focused on the three.
"What is the meaning of this?" Ren demanded, his voice colder than I had ever heard it before. "Did you set this ambush?"
The woman didn't respond, and instead reached a hand under her brown cloak. Blake and Ren stiffened, and I cursed as I realised Crocea Mors was now on the other side of the three. Still, the others had to have heard the commotion and must have been on their way. Luckily, the woman didn't draw another weapon. She drew a scroll instead – one that bore a shocking familiar sigil.
"By command of Julianna Verdant, Headmistress of Haven Academy, and the Royal Family of Mistral, we have been instructed to locate and work with Beacon's students to identify and track the Greycloak menace."
Wait, this was the other team…? My eyes scanned the emblem on the scroll, but to the best of my knowledge it was perfect. And they were here, no doubt investigating the same thing we were. It made sense, even if I still clutched a hand to my throat, and Blake had yet to sheathe her weapons. Ren and she were silent, and I had the suspicion they were waiting for me to speak. Similarly, the woman's two companions were equally silent.
With a pained grunt, I forced myself to stand, nodding a thank you to Blake as she helped me up with one hand and allowed me to lean on her.
"I am Jaune Arc of Beacon," I said, panting just a little. "By order of Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon, our Guild is here to help and support with the effort to find out why the Greycloaks have raided our shores." My eyes narrowed on the hooded and cloaked woman. "Who are you?"
"A friend, it seems," she replied. Her voice was soft and even, but held a note of stiffness, no doubt for the circumstances of our meeting.
With an audible sigh, she reached up and drew down the hood of her cloak, letting loose long locks of raven hair that spilled down over her shoulders. Her skin was pale, her face perfect. Two amber eyes were set from within, and had I been not paying enough attention, I might have mistaken her for Blake. There were no ears, however, and while she was just as beautiful, her eyes were sharper, focused. They scanned me up and down, and also watched the surroundings with a wary air that suggested she was used to combat.
Her Strength suggested such as well, since she'd overpowered me with ease. She was strong. Her whole group was – with Blake's opponent actually being capable of keeping up with her, if not beating her outright.
"I am a student from Haven," she said, tossing her head to one side. "I apologise for the less than graceful circumstances of our meeting. We thought you responsible for this…" She looked to our surroundings and scowled, "-this travesty."
"It's fine," I said, pushing down Blake's weapon with one hand. My eyes fell to hers as she spoke once more, finally sheathing her weapon beneath her cloak.
"As for my name, you may call me Cinder. Cinder Fall. We are here as your backup."
Le gasp, le bron, le thing. A wild Cinder has appeared. I always struggle with describing Cinder when she is next to Blake. The two practically look identical in the first set of seasons, and "She was like Blake, but smirkier," doesn't really cut it.
Next Chapter: 13th November
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
