Here we are. It's been an odd day for me, but the work is done.


Beta: College Fool

Cover Art: Dishwasher1910

Book 4: Chapter 10


The Grimm approached like a tide of purest black, covering the distance between them and the walls with unnatural speed. Some ran on hind legs, others on all fours, and yet more rolled, stumbled or fell towards us in a shambling heap. Some died before they even made it close, tripped and crushed to death by their fellows. It was a drop in the ocean.

"Shoot when they come close," I called, referencing the various people with bows, javelins and other ranged weapons. There weren't many of them, but some were alright lighting oil-soaked arrows in a nearby brazier, prepared to set light to the Grimm and hopefully slow them down.

"There are so many," someone whispered from nearby, an Archer in leather and mail armour, shaking like a leaf with his bow in hand. He looked at me wild-eyed and almost frothing at the mouth. "What are we supposed to do!?"

"Fight," I said.

The man looked at me as though I were insane. I looked back in kind. I knew fear, obviously. I'd been afraid plenty of times before, but I struggled to grasp the level of terror these people were revealing. I was just a Blacksmith, an NPC to these people, and yet it was I who stood here calm and collected while they considered flight? That didn't make sense.

Even if they're failed Heroes, many of them are still Hero Classes. How can they be so afraid against the Grimm? Sure, the numbers were worrying – very much so. I was frightened, I really was.

But shaking, screaming or begging for mercy wasn't going to solve anything. No help was expected or coming, or at least not for a day or two. The only people who were going to save us were ourselves.

"Fight," I repeated, "because if you don't fight, then no one will. If no one fights, then we all of us die. And your loved ones, your families, your children." I stared at the man, whose eyes had taken on a dangerous quality – almost like he thought I was threatening him. I caught his shoulder before he could move. The action was designed not only to keep him from running, but also from doing anything he might regret. "I know you're afraid," I said. "I am, as well. We all are. But right now, that fear is only going to make them bolder. Bite down on it or you won't be able to shoot them."

"A-And what good will shooting them do? What can arrows do against those monsters?"

It was a sentiment the Archer was not alone in thinking if the nervous looks of those around us were any indication. Honestly, I didn't know either. They had to work since Coco was a badass Hero, but it might have been some kind of Skill or just her Level which made it possible.

Still, they needed something to inspire them, and as I looked around the walls I saw the boy from earlier, now holding three wooden sticks with sharpened points. I held a hand out towards him.

"M-Me, sir?"

"Give me one of those," I said, nodding to the javelins. He fumbled with them for a second but handed one over and I hefted it in my grip, inspecting it. It was a throwaway kind of weapon made mostly of wood and with a tip that had been sharpened and hardened in a fire. No metal, no steel tip and no decoration.

I had no idea how to throw a javelin, neither as a Blacksmith nor in my disguise as a Knight, but that didn't matter very much. It wasn't like I could miss the wall of Grimm approaching. I leant Crocea Mors against the wall and hoisted the javelin into the air, laying it flat atop my palm above me. With a quick breath to steady myself I took an unsteady step forward, then hurled it with all my might.

I still didn't know how to use a javelin, nor did I have any Skills or abilities related to it. What I did have, however, was an unbalanced Strength Stat thanks to my A rating and high level, at least for a Blacksmith. The sharpened stick shot forward like an arrow launched from a bow.

I'd aimed for a tall lizard-like creature in the front row, but I missed it by a hideous margin, instead striking a Canis maybe four rows behind and eight Grimm to the left. If Blake had been there to see it, she'd have palmed her face and sighed.

As it was, the men had no idea what I'd been aiming at, and as the wood punctured through the Canis' face, pinning it to another Grimm behind and killing both, they stared in absolute awe.

"There," I said, turning back to them and nodding. "That's two down. That was no enchanted weapon or special Knight's skill. That was just a stick through the face." I looked to the Archer, who still looked afraid but had at least stopped shaking. "I'm sure your arrows will do more. You just need to hit them somewhere important. You can do that, right?"

"Y-Yes." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were calm. "Yes, sir. I can. I can hit them."

"That's all I ask."

A voice further down the line cried out. "FIRE!"

Arrows and javelins scythed from the walls, hissing as they were fired past my ear and over my shoulder. It was hard to see how effective they were. Grimm died, but some fell with ten or more sticking from their bodies, and there were still hundreds that remained. The men cheered at the sight, however, even if I didn't. I felt like Coco could have made each one count. If these people thought this would be halted before hand-to-hand combat, they were wrong.

I picked up Crocea Mors once more and took a deep breath. They'd hit the walls soon and then try to clamber over them, at which point the battle would turn into a swirling melee. I had my sword but no armour and shield and no Guildmates to back me up.

I was on my own this time. No last-minute rescue by Blake, no Pyrrha looking out for me and no Ruby to come up with a plan to save our lives. Just me, my sword, several frightened men and a horde of monsters.

The fear should have been overwhelming but it wasn't. I felt… almost resigned. Maybe it was me getting used to this, or maybe it was something darker. Whatever the case, as the first Grimm hit the walls and started to climb, they found my hard-set face atop the walls – and were promptly greeted with the tip of my blade.

"Archers fall back!" I shouted, beheading the first and pushing its body back. "Everyone else move forwards. Kill them before they get over the walls!"

The men roared – or hysterically screamed – their approval, rushing forwards to meet the foe with myself at the front. As the Grimm struck and the killing began, the wooden walls soon became slick with blood and death.

/-/

"The walls aren't going to last," Qrow said, grabbing me by the arm as I'd been about to run over and engage another Grimm. It took me a second to recognise him, so exhausted and lost in the fight was I. When I did, his words filtered into my mind and my eyes widened.

"Qrow? When did you get here?"

"I've been here half an hour," he said – looking like he was surprised I hadn't noticed. I'd been so focused on the battle, I'd barely perceived anything. The Druid sighed and ignored the issue. "It doesn't matter. The walls are buckling further down the line. They're not going to keep standing and the Grimm are pushing harder than ever. We need to get these people back to the mine entrance before we're overrun. You get these guys going. I'll pass the message down the line." He was off a second later, leaving me to catch my breath and look towards the mines.

In those enclosed tunnels we'd essentially be trapped, but weren't we just as trapped out here? At least in there we could hold a tighter entrance and remove the numbers advantage against us. It was a long shot, and if another quake struck we'd be in trouble. On the other hand, waiting out here was almost certain death.

"Back," I shouted, waving one hand in the air. "Everyone get off the walls and fall back to the mines!" No one heard me on the first cry, or if they did they didn't respond. I had to repeat it three times before the message stuck and it was soon being passed down the line.

Saying it was easy, however. Actually managing to fall back was not. The Grimm were already on the walls in many cases, and with the fighting now in melee, it was all but impossible for people to break off. If they turned their backs, they were as good as dead. If they tried to back up, they'd be forced off the walls to crash to the floor down below. While the drop wasn't big enough to kill anyone who didn't land on their neck, a Grimm would surely leap down to finish the job.

"Damn it," I hissed, catching a stray claw coming for my throat and diverting it aside. As the limb went high, I reversed and brought Crocea Mors down, slicing it across the throat and beheading the Grimm in a spray of gore. On instinct alone, I slashed into a second, cutting it down before it could kill the now disarmed man it had been fighting. As he struggled for breath, I caught him by the breastplate and pushed him back. "Get back to the mines," I snapped. "Take anyone you can with you. Go!"

"W-What about you?" he stammered.

"You don't have the time to be worrying about me. Go!"

He did, and took a few others with him, those that could do so breaking away from the battle to heed my instructions and flee. That still left more than three-quarters of the Soldiers behind, and most of them were being pushed back by the tide of Grimm as it was. There was no way we could retreat without sacrificing some of those. It was simply impossible. Someone had to stay behind to keep the Grimm at bay while the others ran.

I couldn't accept it, refused to accept it. It couldn't even be me – not even for a heroic sacrifice – since whoever stayed would need to keep hundreds of Grimm busy and there was just no way could I manage that. I only had two arms, and the others could just ignore me and chased those who fled. There would need to be more left behind. Ten, twenty – maybe forty people left to die.

How was I supposed to accept that? How was I supposed to live with that? Was I not a Hero? Was this not my responsibility?

It was – and I felt a strange calm descent on me as I realised it. Accepted it. Embraced it.

A Canis roared as it cleared the wall, its maw opened wide as it lunged for a young soldier's face with teeth extended. The boy – older than me, but still a boy – cried out in fear, his own weapons buried in the flank of a lizard-like Grimm already dying before him. The sharp teeth would puncture his armour and tear out his throat in one go.

My hand caught it about the throat. The wolf-like beast howled and spat, but I surged forwards with a roar and slammed its body down on the sharpened tops of the wooden wall. It twitched atop it, impaled and dying as another closed in from the side. Crocea Mors met it, shearing it in two and splashing blood about and over me. My eyes saw through it, locking onto a large and meaty claw that was pulling itself over the edge of the wall.

"Beowolf!" the soldiers there screamed, falling back in the face of what was not an Ancient Grimm, but closer than anything else. It was beyond them, and they tried to flee, only to be brought low by the Grimm they left behind. Some were killed instantly but one cried out from the floor, holding back a Canis from snapping off his face.

My booted foot caught it, launching the beast off the wall. I dragged the Soldier up and pushed him back. "Go," I said. "Fall back to the mines." I swept my sword to the side, cutting another Grimm frown a downed and wounded soldier. He too scrambled to his feet and was helped away by the first. Those that managed to free themselves and were still alive fled past me, crying out in fear of the Beowolf that finally crested the walls and settled its giant bulk atop it. It roared angrily at me.

My eyes narrowed in return.

I remembered the first time I'd seen one… back in the First Quest when it had spawned in front of me, hunting me through the abandoned town and nearly killing me. It would have if not for Blake, Pyrrha, Nora and Ren. Things were different now. I was stronger. This time, there would be no flight.

A copper pot attached to the wall caught my eye, and a quick sniff told me it was oil for the lanterns, or maybe even for archers to fire flaming arrows at approaching Grimm. I took it instead, upending it onto the blade of my weapon, tilting it down so that the excess ran down the fuller towards the tip. As the Beowolf fell onto all fours and rushed towards me, bowling lesser Grimm out of the way. My eyes glowed a pale blue.

"Stoke the Forge," I whispered, touching two fingers to the soaked blade.

It erupted into flame – and my eyes flickered pale blue behind it.

The Beowolf didn't care. It leapt forward, claws outstretched. Bringing the flaming sword up, I deflected one set to the side of me, stepping into its reach to dodge the other. Its huge bulk crashed into me, but I dug one foot back and heaved – throwing the massive creature back. With a crackling whoosh of air, Crocea Mors twirled forwards and cut half of its white mask from its face.

The soldiers around me cheered at the sight, their vigour renewed as they fought all the harder, rallying about the flaming sword and the Knight that wielded it. I barely had the time for it, my eyes focused on my prey as I danced forward, not giving it the chance to react as I lashed out for its throat. It batted the attack aside and lunged for my head, but I ducked and swept under, cutting across its ankles and severing one, the sword cauterising the wound before it had even the chance to bleed. The Grimm roared in fury – pain alien to it – but went silent as I buried the sword in its mouth, cutting through tongue cheek and bone to skewer its head.

With a grunt, I pushed it to the side and placed my foot against it, kicking it free of my blade and sending it crashing down from the wall. The cheers picked up once more.

"Hold the wall!" someone cried.

"Fire for the enemy!" another yelled.

"For the flaming sword!"

I laughed and did my best to ignore it all. There was work still to be done and one Beowolf certainly wasn't the end of this onslaught. I spied a break in the fighting ahead; a pocket of Grimm created around the body of a dead soldier, and rushed over to reinforce it. The men there had all but fallen when I arrived, and they gasped as my flaming sword cut past them, my body following as I recklessly threw myself into the Grimm sweeping left and right. I blocked one claw with my arm, ignoring the tell-tale feeling of skin tearing as I backhanded the creature away and ran another through. Skin crackled and burned, but that only made it easier to draw my sword free and behead a third, pushing its body over the wall to crash down on its fellows.

The distraction served its purpose and the beleaguered soldiers pushed forwards once more, renewed and back in control of the fight now that I'd thinned the number of enemies.

But I couldn't be everywhere – and as I looked about the battlefield, I realised the walls had become even more difficult to hold. Those who heeded mine and Qrow's instructions had fled, but those that remained were now locked into a battle they could not escape. I caught sight of the Druid fighting his way towards me, spinning and twirling with incredible speed, his curved blade a streak of black light that severed any limb that dared appear before him. His eyes glowed, but he cast no spell and instead cut his way through to me with a loud growl.

"What's going on?" he demanded. "I told you to fall back."

"You told me to get them to fall back," I replied, gesturing with my sword to the men still covering the walls. "It's not as easy as you say. The Grimm aren't going to give us the chance to retreat like humans would. They don't care for the advantage of taking the walls; they just want to kill us."

"Damn it all. I knew splitting our group up was a bad idea. Fucking Greycloaks." Qrow snarled and pierced a Grimm that attempted to climb the wall through its throat. It gurgled and fell back, wrenching its body off his sword. "We're stuck here now," he said. "I only hope the other soldiers made it back to cover the mines, because any Grimm who break past are headed straight there."

I looked back that way but couldn't see anything for all the buildings. There were several Grimm down on the street level, but plenty of soldiers to fight them. I didn't dare leave the walls to help. "Where's Cinder?" I asked.

"Fighting on the south wall. She was alive the last I saw her, but who even knows in this mess." Qrow prodded my chest with the hilt of his weapon. "You should focus more on yourself. Leave her to handle herself. She's strong enough for it."

He was gone a second later, leaving me behind to command the defence as he rushed down the wall towards a pocket of Grimm that had gained a foothold. I turned back to the wall in front of me, hacking and slashing methodically while occasionally breaking off to help those less able to help themselves. It continued for what felt like hours but was probably minutes, and sweat ran slick across my face, dampening my hair and leaving it to lay flat against my brow.

I flicked it aside, knowing there was nothing more I could do. At least I didn't have my armour to weigh me down, and I was surprised at how good it felt to fight without it. My Dexterity is already low enough as it is. Have I been making life harder by trying to fight in armour? My Constitution was one of my stronger skills, so maybe I should have gone light from the start to give me more versatility. It didn't matter now.

It was funny how much the mind could wander in a situation like this. It didn't feel quite normal, and judging from the way the other Soldiers screamed, shouted and shook, it was only me who felt this way.

"Don't give up!" I cried, and earned a range of bewildered, shocked and awed faces from men who had been about to do so. While not inspired by my words, they looked amazed I could be without their fear. "Keep fighting!" I swept into a Grimm, shouldering its claws aside as I reversed and hooked my cross guard around its neck, dragging its face down to the floor and then using the edge of the blade to sever it.

The men rallied at the sight – even if they still seemed afraid, terrified even. Their battle cries were a mixture of pain and despair, but they charged in with me, driving the beasts from the walls and down into the mass below. It seemed never-ending, even if I knew it was not. I could see the back of the horde – the finite number – but that still meant several more waves and hundreds of Grimm to contend with, not to mention whatever was left on the South Wall where Cinder fought.

And as the tide crashed into the walls, I had to wonder why a village that mined stone for a living didn't have stone walls. The thought came to me when the wall beneath me let out a mighty crack and shifted a foot or so backwards.

It was going to collapse.

"Off the wall!" I yelled, grabbing one man and pushing him back. He staggered and fell the short distance down, landing with a startled `oomph`. "Off the wall!" I repeated, louder. "Get to the streets. Make your way to the mines!"

They weren't idiots, these men. They felt the shift in the wall and did as I ordered, breaking off where they could and throwing themselves from the walls, landing in rolls and heaps down below and then stumbling to their feet to limp away. Some formed walls of steel and flesh in narrow streets, prepared for fighting in the confines of the village. Others made their way to the mines, resigned to a last stand and possible death.

I stayed atop the walls to buy them time. If I leapt off as well, then the wall would be breached and those retreating would be cut down. It was the only thing to cross my mind as I hacked left and right, swinging with reckless abandon and cutting limbs from anything that approached. It was not a perfect defence and I took blows in turn. The Grimm paid for each, however, and not a one that harmed me lived to tell of it.

But it was all for nothing. I saw it a second before I felt it, but that second wasn't time enough to react. An Ursa – an actual Ancient Grimm itself – barrelled into the wall beneath me, shattering it with ease. Its burly shoulder caught my body as I fell, propelling me back to roll in the dirt. As its heavy footsteps approached, I spat out a little blood and struggled to stand. Crocea Mors wavered, more from exhaustion than fear. The flame from earlier had been snuffed out when I landed, and I doubted it had the oil left for me to relight it.

A nearby soldier coughed and staggered up, but stumbled back upon seeing the monster. "A-An Ursa," he whispered, and then looked to me and swallowed heavily. He steadied his gaze and stood beside me. "What do we do, sir?"

He was useless here. I knew that, and he knew it too, yet he continued to stand there, ready to die to defend the people of Stoneskeep. I wondered if that was him talking or Mistral, but figured it didn't matter in the end. "Fall back to the mines," I said.

"And leave you!?"

He was brave… very brave, but also out of his depth. "It's too big to fit in the mine," I pointed out. "If you fall back there, I'll be able to retreat and do the same." I smiled at him. "Go. The faster you're gone, the quicker I can follow. I'll catch you up."

"O-Okay…" He nodded and lowered his weapon. "I'll wait for you, sir. Don't take too long!"

I felt sorry for him. And as he ran away, I finally realised it was the same young man who had stood beside me when the fighting started – the one who had never fought Grimm before. That had changed now, I supposed, though I didn't want to think this would be his first and only battle.

Sadly, I knew I wouldn't be catching up with him anytime soon. The second I turned my back, this thing would crash through the building and kill me. Ancient Grimm didn't mess around, and although this was nothing compared to the one we'd fought in the Dungeon, it was still a foe beyond my exhausted and battered self.

That should have terrified me, but it didn't. I felt a strange clarity that even I knew was wrong. Crocea Mors was levelled towards it.

I should run, my mind pointed out. I should flee. I should scream. I… I shouldn't feel this calm. But I did, and as the Ursa loped towards me, I shifted my feet and prepared myself to meet its charge. It would surely crush me, but one good cut would put it down and give the others a chance to escape. That would be enough.

As it came near – my eyes began to glow.

"Move!" a voice screamed, cutting off my moment as a dark shape dashed in from the left and sliced across the back of the Ursa's left calf. The beast howled and flung an arm back, catching Qrow about the leg and launching him into a wall. "Argh!" he cried, but managed to keep hold of his weapon. "Damn it, kid. Get out of here!"

"Qrow?" I asked, the fog in my mind fading. I yelped and dodged a claw that would have disembowelled me, and my sword lashed back out through muscle memory and training alone, nicking its wrist. It was a pathetic wound but it seemed enough to enrage the already furious beast, which lowered itself onto all fours and charged directly at me. Its body crashed into and through a building as I threw myself to the side.

The Druid was just working his way up into a standing position when I reached him. "I'm okay," he said, waving me away and obviously ignoring the grisly wound on his leg. He wasn't okay. "You seriously about to stand there and take a charge from that thing? Use your brain, brat!" He cuffed my shoulder. "What do you think Ruby would say if she heard about that? Or your girlfriend?"

I knew he was right, but the moment wasn't right for regrets. "Sorry," I said, not really feeling it. "I don't know what came over me. I just got lost in the fight."

"Yeah well, don't get lost again. I need you in your right mind."

I was about to ask him what he meant but the building the Ursa had crashed into gave a tired groan and the beast hauled itself free. Yet again, I didn't feel nearly as afraid as I thought I should. I glanced down at Qrow's leg instead and asked, "Don't you have a healing spell for that?"

"I'm using it."

I looked again and saw blood continue to flow. "It must not be a very good one…"

"I'm not much of a healer. Not much of a spell caster." He glanced at me. "Tell you what; if we survive this I'll give you the full story, okay?"

"Sure." I was only vaguely curious but talk of the future was good. It implied we'd have one when all of Stoneskeep was currently being overrun. I hoped Blake and the others were okay, and then wondered if there was something wrong with me for thinking of other people in a situation like this.

The Grimm's charge removed all such thoughts entirely. Qrow went left, I to the right. The Ursa angled itself towards me and swiped with both claws to try and grab and pull me in. I stepped in – though only to get inside its grip and stab up into its chest. I hit the floor a second later to dodge its arms and was forced to roll under and between its legs as it tried to stamp on me.

Behind, Qrow staggered forward and unleashed a blistering attack on its hind legs, hamstringing one and bringing the beast down onto one knee – coincidentally just after I'd rolled through not a second too soon. Whether or not he could cast magic, Qrow's attacks tore huge chunks from the creature, cutting off its bone carapace and exposing its spine. "Finish it!" he yelled.

He needn't have. The second I saw the opening, Crocea Mors was already coming in, pushed forward by my shoulder against the pommel as I less thrust and more rammed the point into it. The spinal column didn't break as I'd intended and Crocea Mors skittered off. That didn't matter, however, as it impaled deeper into the body. The Ursa stiffened, and I froze with my cheek pressed against its coarse fur.

Had we done it? Or was it about to turn and tear me limb from limb?

Qrow sealed the deal by slamming his sword in beside my own, except on the other side of its spine. Our eyes met and we pushed with all our might, toppling the monster forward. It landed with a mighty crash and did not rise again.

"We did it," I panted.

"Yeah," he replied, releasing his sword and stumbling to the side. I caught him before he could fall and looped his arm over my shoulder. The beast's claws had gone through his leg and exposed muscle, though luckily it hadn't taken the whole thing off. It still wasn't healing like I'd seen Priest's spells do.

"Damn it," Qrow cursed. "Can't say I expected this level of Grimm. Not here. What kind of negativity would be needed for this?"

I didn't dare say, even if I felt I might know the answer.

"I'll try and get you back to the mines," I said.

"Little difference it'll make, kid. Shit, I knew my Passive would play up, but this isn't what I had in mind. Oz should have known better than to put you lot under my care."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't even know. Forget it." He pushed off my body and limped away. "Get to the mines and hold yourself there. Reinforcements from Mistral should be en route. You might be able to hold off until they arrive."

"And you?" I asked.

"I'll give you a diversion. It's the least I can do."

At the cost of his life, he meant. I tried to stop him but felt just as exhausted, and I had no idea whether either of us would make it to the mines otherwise. We were cut off and with Grimm covering the streets between us. This really was the end. I felt sick to my stomach, and shivered at the cold air. Something behind warmed me instantly, like the baking sun at the height of noon.

It was late evening, however. Such heat was impossible.

Qrow's eyes stared past me. "What the hell is she doing!?"

I turned to see what he meant and my mouth opened in shock as I caught a familiar figure stood atop the bell-tower, the top of which had been cut away and fallen to the ground. Cinder's arms were pointed up towards the sky, and her hair flapped in the wind alongside her crimson dress. Flames danced about her arms and hand, but it was the large ball-shaped orb of fire above her that truly caught my eye. It was huge… far too large to be called a fireball, and something the likes of which I doubt Weiss could have ever managed.

"Is she going to blow up the village?" I asked, too tired to even sound frightened by the prospect.

"I doubt a Hero from Mistral would…" Qrow's eyes dipped lower. "Still, if she has a plan in mind she better do it quick or she's toast."

I saw what he meant instantly and cursed. Several Grimm were scaling the tower, and from her angle focused on the area above her, she couldn't see them. With a growl I pushed off and away, dashing in her direction as I cupped my hands before my mouth. "Cinder!" I yelled, aware that my voice was lost over the roars and screams of combat. I tried again "Cinder! Below you! Look out!"

She didn't hear me. As a Beowolf scaled up behind her, its giant bulk clearing the barrier and one arm raised to rend her in two, she pointed her hands high and shouted something of her own. The Beowolf's claws came down. My warning was torn away in the wind.

An explosion shook Stoneskeep and drove me to the floor. I landed hard, heat washing over me and causing me to gasp for air. It didn't burn but instead was a shock – like being doused with hot water when you were already freezing cold. I look up in time to see Cinder stood at the edge of the broken tower, slumped over the balustrade as she fought for breath. Behind her, the Beowolf had fallen to its death – propelled back by the explosion. But it was what was above her that made my mouth run dry.

"What… What is that?"

It was a bird. No, that didn't do it justice. It was a giant creature of some kind – like an eagle or a hawk, except made of naught but rolling flame and flickering fire. The distinction of its edges, what little there were, flickered and changed constantly, and it was only my human definition of `bird` that made it seem as such. As its giant wings spread out to either side, blasting hot air and wind down onto us all, I realised that it hadn't been a ball at all. The bird's wings had simply been curled about itself, its head and beak lowered to make it look like one.

Now, with its wings spread and its beak raised towards the sky, there was no mistaking it. The creature let out a mighty trill that sounded like a cross between a nightingale and a crackling wood fire.

I doubted I was the only one who stopped and stared, for a silence had fallen over the battlefield. No screams, no noise, no voices – nor even the roar of Grimm. All I could hear was the mighty beat of its wings, and Cinder's voice – crystal clear – as she called out.

"Phoenix," she ordered. "Purge the walls!"

The bird, phoenix, trilled its response, diving low and whooshing over my head, clearing the buildings by scant metres and trailing little sparks that floated like fireflies in the air. I turned about so quickly that I fell, landing on my rear as I watched the monstrous construct disappear over the walls, and then fly about them, its body tilted inwards and its wings visible above the palisade. The Grimm outside screamed and burned and the walls themselves lit as it passed through them, heedless of physical barriers and yet setting alight everything it touched.

The Spell – skill, summon? I had no idea – continued its flight about the village, burning the hordes of Grimm to ash before it swam lazily back into the air. Its wings beat once, twice, and then slammed out – bringing it to a halt as it hovered above the village. Its eyes gazed over us, washing over and past me and towards the Grimm within the walls. Its beak opened – and a solid pillar of flame shot out from it, incinerating an entire group in one go.

I turned away from the might creature, staring at the woman who had summoned it, who stood atop the central bell tower with her hair flapping in the wind.

As the last Grimm were burnt to ash, the Phoenix flew back to land behind her, its wings closing in about her and its flaming beak coming close to her face. Despite the heat, she reached out to touch it, stroking one hand against the bird's head as it nuzzled her chest.

The soldiers and villagers, who had finally come out from hiding, cheered and hollered at the sight, many raising their hands towards the woman who had saved them all.

As a shuffling series of footsteps reached me, I looked back to see Qrow. He limped forwards but much like mine, his eyes were focused above. The Phoenix had begun to disappear, like a fire left to burn as particles rose up towards the sky and blew away on the wind. It only took a few seconds, but even after it was gone, I couldn't purge the image from my mind.

"What the hell was that?" I gasped.

"A reminder," Qrow said, "that no matter how old you get, and how much you see, there will always be something in this world that can surprise you…"

I didn't know what to say. The woman who had saved us leapt down from the tower, landing in a soft crouch as people slowly emerged from the mines to stare in awe at her. She swept her hair back and looked to them – and they burst into cheers, crying their adulation and love. Cinder seemed to bask in it for a second, before she turned to the two of us and walked slowly towards us.

When she reached us, she paused to smile.

"I'm about to collapse," she said, as if discussing the weather. "Jaune, could you-"

She didn't manage anymore. I caught her as she fell, dropping Crocea Mors as I twisted her body to hold her facing upwards, her head and neck cradled in my arm as I fell into a crouch to comfort her fall. Several Soldiers nearby gasped in horror – and for a second I feared their agony at the perceived loss of their saviour would start another Grimm incursion. Luckily, Qrow was on it.

"She's fine," he snapped, raising his voice so that everyone could hear him. "She's just exhausted from that final spell. Everyone just… do your things. Man the walls, see to the wounded, and bury the dead." He trailed off with a long sigh. "The battle of Stoneskeep is won. The Grimm are dead."

The men and women nearby nodded and rushed away to fulfil his instructions, one carrying the message back to the mines for the others. Soon, orders and commands were being shouted out, and people ran to and fro to check buildings and rescue those they could.

"The battle is won," I said, "but at what cost?"

"A heavy one," Qrow replied. "The best battle is the one fought with words, but anything more than that and you'll have a victory that feels as hollow as any defeat. At least when you're dead there isn't time for grief or regret." His words echoed my thoughts perfectly, but he crouched down and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Still, you can't let it get to you now. You've got to think how much worse things would be if we hadn't won. All these people would be dead for one and you'd not get another chance to see your friends and loved ones."

He was right. I nodded. "What about her?" I asked, looking down to Cinder. "What do you think that thing was?"

"Some kind of spell, I'd guess. I've heard legends of summons and creatures like them, but this isn't the time to jump to conclusions. It could have been a fire-spell shaped like a bird, rather than a bird made of fire."

"Is that what you think?"

He sighed. "I don't know. Prestige Classes are a law unto their own, kid. They don't follow the usual rules and the things they can do sometimes seem impossible. They're the people from stories; the very ones myths and legends are formed around. Everything crazy you've ever heard and thought impossible? There's a good chance it happened, but that it was a rare one-in-a-million Prestige Class that managed it, and no one else can ever hope to imitate it."

Was the difference between Prestige and non-Prestige really that great? I didn't know how to feel about that. Pyrrha had never made a meal of her Class, but that might have just been because she didn't want anyone to treat her differently. Back in the Dungeon, she'd actually managed to parry and deflect the giant Ursa's attacks.

Little wonder the people of Mistral put so much faith in them…

"Let's get her to a bed," Qrow said, standing and helping me to do the same, Cinder slumped in my arms. "It's the least we can do for her saving our asses, and who knows, she might be willing to explain what the hell that was when she wakes up."

"And you can get someone to see to your leg," I said.

"What do you mean? It's already healed."

I looked down in surprise to see that he'd spoken the truth. The wound itself was gone, though red marks showed the outline of it on his leg. The healing spell had worked, then. It had just taken far longer than any other I'd seen before, and not been at all useful in combat. "You're going to explain that to me, right?"

"I said I would, so I will. Tomorrow, though. I don't know about you, but I could really use some rest about now."

I was the same, and suddenly felt a fresh wave of exhaustion wash over me, almost like a shroud had been lifted and the fatigue I'd been hiding all along had been revealed at last. I stumbled and nearly fell – might have, dropping Cinder across the floor – if not for Qrow catching us both.

"I wondered when you'd go," he laughed. "I was surprised at how well you handled it out there. I've never seen someone look so steady in the face of death. That some kind of Knight Skill for holding the line?"

"Something like that," I mumbled.

"Yeah well, you can tell me all about it in the morning if you like. Get some rest tonight. You did good. We all did."

I felt proud at the words, if only because Qrow didn't seem the type to praise someone for nothing, especially not me. Even so, I wondered if it would be enough. Stoneskeep had been saved, but the Grimm had spawned due to something else. Something that reminded me of a mountain capped with snow and a deadly apparition summoned through sacrifice.

My dreams that night were plagued with a white face set with eyes of crimson fire.

"Sleep well, Deceiver," Salem's voice whispered into my very bones. "I'll be waiting for you..."


Okay so, today has been a day and a half. No internet all day at work and no phone lines or internet either, so I've been running around like a headless chicken trying to get that sorted out. You wouldn't believe how much that can hit a company in the gut, especially around the Christmas period. That didn't leave much time for this, sadly.

Anyway, this is a damn sight faster than the siege of Magnis, huh? A part of me wanted to split it over two chapters and make each longer, but the siege isn't the important factor and I ultimately decided not to. It's important, but there isn't much to develop during it, so it didn't need to go on for multiple days or hours.

What key aspects there were ended up being revealed, so it did what it had to.


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Jaune Arc

Level 27 (+1)

Blacksmith

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Str: 73 (+5) (A)

Con: 56 (+2) (B)

Dex: 16 (+1) (D) (Rune: 20)

Agi: 27 (+2) (C)

Int: 37 (+2) (C)

Wis: 48 (+3) (B)

Cha: 13 (+0) (D)

Res: 76 (+6) (A)

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Passive Skill

-Fire from the Forge-

Immunity to heat, flames and associated damage caused from his forging process.

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Known Active Skills

-Stoke the Forge-

Generate intense heat in the hand for a short period of time, capable of super-heating metal to forging temperatures without the use of a forge.

-Quench-

Rapidly cool metal-based material to achieve a hardening effect during the forging process. Quench can only be used in metallurgy, as opposed to Stoke the Forge, which can generate heat in the hand irrespective of what it is then used on.

-Runesmithing-

The ability to etch Runes onto weapons, the effect of which is determined by the Rune itself. Limited to a single Rune per weapon.

-Runes-

Rune of Minor Dexterity - +4 to Dexterity

Rune of Minor Constitution - +4 to Constitution

Alleged Active Skills

-Flaming Sword-

Wreathe one's blade in a sheet of flame, granting extra damage of a flame-based type.

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And here we have an "Alleged skill" which I have thrown on for the sake of it. After all, Jaune has to be a Knight, right? Even if he doesn't name them, it's interesting to see what Skills other people might come up with as a means of explaining away his actions. I suppose one could also make an argument for "Rally" or "Hold the Line" based on his ability to command and instil confidence in the troops earlier, but since none of his Guild saw that, I won't list it.


Next Chapter: 4th December

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur