Here we go


Cover Art: Jack Wayne

Chapter 131


The location chosen was a dismal stretch of open, sandy ground half a kilometre from the walls of Vacuo, well within range of its protection but far enough away as to avoid any unnecessary accidents. Carmine had been strict on that and had even taken the precaution of alerting the sentries on the walls so that no one would think there was an attack. In fact, she was easily the most reluctant about the whole affair, unsubtly asking Bertilak again and again where this was really necessary.

The giant would not be moved. His lips remained sealed shut, his eyes narrowed, and he moved with the purposeful tread of a man locked into his chosen task. Jaune had seen that kind of look on the face of people defending their villages and knowing they were going to stand and die if needs be. Curious that it would show on someone asking for a spar of all things.

Carmine strikes me as a good actor. Is she faking her reluctance, and this is actually her idea from the start? An ambush from Crown and this mind-controlling Jax character could be used to force them under Crown's sway. Qrow had assured him that wouldn't happen, but Jaune Ashari-soon-to-be-Schnee was a far more tempting target. Crown could do a lot with the support of the Schnee family.

On the other hand, Bertilak didn't seem like a person who could lie. At least not effectively. His dislike was clear from the start, his scorn apparent, and this was much too blunt an approach to be planned by a group as apparently well organised as this Crown lot. It would have been easier to ambush them in their hotel while they rested.

"This is ridiculous." Carmine continued to complain. "It's midday, burning hot and we're out in the ass end of nowhere so you can have a dick measuring contest. Seriously, Bertilak, if it wasn't for Queenie demanding I keep you company, I'd have abandoned you by now."

"Do so. I've no need for your damn whining."

"What scorpion crawled up your ass and died?" she muttered quietly. Her eyes slid to Qrow and Jaune, a pretty smile appearing once more. "Sorry about him. This really isn't what I had in mind when he asked me to say hello to you."

"This happen often?" Qrow asked.

"Only when Mr Sensitive feels his position on the pecking order is in jeopardy." Her thumb jerked toward the growling giant. "He's one of those kinds. You know, the alpha and beta nonsense. Always got to feel he's on top."

"The two of you are partners?"

"Sadly. Bertilak kind of does his own thing most of the time, too often for my tastes. I'm not leader material and he's not the type to take orders. It's always a chore when Queenie or Jax aren't around."

The fit, dark-skinned woman laughed, and Jaune had to admit it was a pleasant and rich sound, manufactured and maintained to charm and impress. He wasn't sure if it was used here to do just that or to mislead, and it was paranoia only that kept him noticing it. There's no need for it, he reminded himself. Crown weren't their enemies here, and Carmine and Bertilak would be unwise to pick a fight. He had to assume they knew that.

"Let's just hope this doesn't go too far," she said. Lowering her voice, she whispered, "On the side, I know Bert is on the backfoot here. I've heard about you, and if you're working with Qrow then I know you're one of the best. Can I ask you not to mess him up too bad?"

Jaune nodded slowly. "I'll do my best."

"Cheers. Really, I don't know what's gotten into his head. Oi, Bertilak!" she shouted. "This spot ought to do."

"About time." The man in green armour stabbed his rusty mace down into the sand, turning with an angry snarl and reinforcing in Jaune's head the idea he was the lovechild of Cardin Winchester and Russel Thrush. He ripped off his brown cloak and sent it fluttering to the sand a short distance away, then picked up his mace and swung it up to rest on one shoulder. "Let's get this started already. Any longer and a sandstorm will roll in."

"He makes it sound like we're the ones pushing this," Carmine said.

"It's fine." Jaune more slowly unwound and folded his scarf into Qrow's hands, then removed his white coat and set it down atop them. Fighting with too many layers could be a death sentence in this heat, even if the spar was a friendly one. Drawing Crocea Mors but leaving the sheathe as such, he walked forward and swung it up to mirror Bertilak, resting the flat of the blade on his right shoulder. "How are we doing this? First blood, aura or surrender?"

"Aura or surrender." Bertilak said.

"Good enough for me. Miss Carmine. If you'll do the honours?"

"Miss? Heh. Don't hear many people calling me that. Alright. My words from earlier still stand, Bertilak. Take this too far and I'll step in to bury you." Such a horrific threat was delivered with a smile, hinting at the description meaning something other than death. "Three. Two. One. Go!"

Bertilak lunged forward swinging his mace with one hand in a brutishly effective attack. Jaune answered by simply stepping back and letting it swing by, curious to see what the man's next move would be and whether he might wear himself down by exerting himself in this punishing heat. When the swing missed, Bertilak kept going, a backhand lashing out with his free hand as he shifted one foot back, brought his mace up high and down, all with the momentum from the first attack.

The mace struck the sand and sent up a wall of dust and grit that obscured Jaune's vision and sent him jogging around to clear it. A single gunshot pierced through the air and the cloud. A gun mace. Of course it's a gun mace. What could I have been thinking? Bertilak came hurtling through the cloud of sand before it could disperse, shouldering Jaune in the chest and pushing him back.

When his hand tried to grasp his collar, however, Jaune brought Crocea Mors down, pommel smashing into the man's wrist to knock it aside while the blade went for his neck. The single swing forced Bertilak to sway aside, which he did with a speed belying his huge size and girth.

He was quick. Not fast by the measure of Ruby or Raven, but quick on his feet and economical with his movements in a way Vacuo must have taught him. No wild swings like Cardin, but a single swing that led into three attacks. In heat like this, every missed blow took a toll on the aggressor. Every swing carried the weight of three and after just one, sweat had begun to form on Jaune's brow. He wasn't used to the heat. Not like Bertilak and Carmine were.

Disengaging, Jaune stabbed his left hand down and came up with a handgun, squeezing off three shots. Bertilak tanked through two and blocked the third with his mace, then rushed in to limit his range. That he didn't shoot back when he had a gun in his mace was telling. Limited range, ammunition or firing capacity. The thing did look rusted and worn.

Rather than holster the gun, he threw it in Bertilak's face and ducked low, bracing on one knee and thrusting Crocea Mors into the charging man's path. The weapon didn't distract as intended, though. Bertilak didn't even make to swat it aside, grunting as it hit his face. His eyes remained locked on Jaune, and his mace crashed into Crocea Mors, knocking it aside. Jaune rolled with the impact, out of the path of the charging man, who stopped in a crouch, one hand to the sand collecting a handful of grit. Qrow must have been having flashbacks.

Memorising his weak position, Jaune closed his eyes and slashed down. As expected, Bertilak heaved the sand into his face – but what wasn't expected was the burning pain as it seared along his aura, slicing over his cheeks and drawing blood before he could reinforce it. Shocked, Jaune broke his attack and threw himself to the left, hearing the impact of a mace behind. Opening his eyes, he gingerly touched his cheek, pulling his hand away bloody.

Had Bertilak hidden a weapon in the process of collecting sand? Had he done that knowing Jaune would notice, then substituted it with a throwing knife? Impossible. He would have noticed if the man had that on him. Instead, he noticed the faint wisps of smoke coming from Bertilak's fingers and the droplets of what looked like water falling from them. The water touched the sand and embedded into it, whole and clear, glinting in the sun. Glass.

The lovechild of Cardin, Russel and Cinder. How ridiculous. Had this guy been to the car boot sale of Beacon and taken his pick of gear, aesthetics and Semblance? It was practically identical to Cinder's, even down to how she used it to create glass weaponry.

Heat generation, and at a temperature high enough to turn sand to glass. He wasn't sure of the physics involved, but that temperature would be more than high enough to burn flesh, too. Better not let this guy get a hold of me or I'm in trouble. Still, this explains why he's one of the strongest huntsmen in Vacuo. The ability to turn sand into a weapon in a desert speaks for itself.

"Figured it out?" Bertilak asked angrily.

Jaune nodded. "It wasn't hard."

"Damn smartass."

Bertilak charged him down again, twisting his mace around in a feint that Jaune tracked, ignoring the first and locking the second. He dodged and then stamped down on the second, ripping the mace out of Bertilak's grip. Crocea Mors swept in for his throat, nicking skin and aura before the man could roll back and stab both his hands into the sand.

The ground under Jaune's feet began to shift – Bertilak couldn't heat fast enough to reach and ensnare him in glass, but the sudden shift closer to him had caused an imbalance in mass, and a dune was nothing but a carefully piled hill of sand. With the sand closer to Bertilak compacted, the sand around Jaune's feet began to rush inward. He stumbled and jumped back before he could fall and be drawn in. Rolling back as best he could, he watched as the glass expanded and reached the mace, giving a slippery slope for it to screech its way back to its wielder.

In no way was that useable as an attack – it was too slow to spread – but it was still a problem. In desperation, Bertilak could flash melt the sand around him, making extreme closer quarters dangerous.

Bertilak stood suddenly, hefting his mace over his shoulder and closing his eyes. "I give up."

What?

"WHAT!?" Carmine howled.

"I said I give up. You hard of hearing now?"

"You'll be hard of breathing soon enough. You drag me out to find them, make me buy a bottle if expensive wine and introduce you, then make me drag your sorry butt all the way out here for a fight, only to give up after a few minutes?"

"He's figured me out." Bertilak said gruffly. "Figured my Semblance, my fighting style and my weapon." He glared Jaune's way. "Isn't that right?"

"Super heating anything you touch. A mace with a one-chamber magazine. Heavy swings using momentum to conserve energy and forcing your enemies to expend theirs dodging."

Carmine looked impressed. Bertilak… He looked pleased. "Exactly. No point pushing this any further. It's my loss unless I can grab him, and he isn't going to come anywhere near me knowing my Semblance. Fighting on is pointless."

"As if that's ever stopped you before. Ugh. Fine. Jaune Ashari-Schnee is the winner. Great. Can we get back to the city now?" Carmine nodded beyond them. "I don't like the look of that sandstorm."

It was brewing off to the west, a misty brown mass that had taken over the horizon. It was at least two hours off, maybe more, but the winds in Vacuo could be unpredictable. Jaune took his scarf back from a grinning Qrow, wrapping it around the lower half of his face and over his brow in the way he'd been taught with the Del'Ashari tribe. He swung the coat over his shoulders.

The walk back was conducted in silence from the two of them. The constant mockery and argumentative banter between Carmine and Bertilak was enough to fill the silence.

/-/

The city's guards were more concerned with the sandstorm than they were their fight, bringing up large sheets of fabric and affixing them to poles to create makeshift outposts. Goggles, face wraps and in some cases full masks were being donned. The Grimm would not rest just because the sandstorm was raging, and it was a dangerous time for anyone to be caught unawares.

"Weather's been unpredictable for the past few months," Carmine said once they were back inside the walls and in the shade of the main gates. "Though the outriders caught and registered this one forming a day back. If you're new to the area, you're best to stay indoors for this. Travel to a bar or restaurant if you like but wear a thick cloak and cover your face."

"We're staying a few days anyway," Qrow said. "Waiting for work on your end."

"Hm. Queenie told me. Jax is already putting feelers out, and despite how Bertilak acted, we're all on the same side here. Or at least we're working together. We'll find you your intel if it's out there to be found." Carmine tilted her head suddenly, the silver streak falling across her face. "I'm curious, though. What is it you want with this girl? Missing huntress? Old comrade?"

"An enemy." Jaune answered before Qrow could tell them it was none of their business and immediately get every single member of Crown interested in what Omaira might represent. "We're hunting her down after she attacked Qrow's teammate and nearly killed her. Said teammate is a close friend of mine and a professor of Beacon."

"Really?" Carmine whistled. "Wouldn't want to be the one you're after. That's for sure." If Crown double checked his story, they'd find an easily accessible amount of information on Summer. Enough to sell his story. "Not many bandits will willingly attack a huntress, even if she's on her own."

"Our thoughts entirely. We want to know why she targeted us."

"Fair enough. We'd best get going, anyway. I'll be in the bar you met us in later tonight if you want to chat. There's always a party on when a storm hits. No funny business," she added with a wink. "I promise."

"We'll see."

Carmine laughed and sauntered away with a cheerful wave. Jaune offered a hand to Bertilak, but the man squared his shoulders and followed after his companion without a word. Soon enough, they were alone again, Jaune with his hand held out and Qrow chuckling.

"I see your bad first impression on me wasn't a fluke. You're trash at them in general." He paused to ask, "What was that about the maiden? Calling her an enemy flat out is a bit much. She could be friendly."

"I'd rather Crown now ask more questions."

"Hmm. I see your point. What did you think of them?"

"Interesting characters. I don't like Carmine."

"You're paranoid, more like."

"Neither of us were friendly." Jaune pointed out. "I was downright rude. Forgive me if I get suspicious when a person's reaction to that is to become even friendlier to us. I don't think she had any ulterior motives, but I think she's about as honest as Raven."

"That bad, huh? Well, it's the motives that count. You have to expect a person to be messed up to join a group like Crown in the first place. As long as she isn't aiming for us, it's fine."

True. As long as Crown were on their side, it wasn't such a problem. Over the city, bells began to toll, and market stalls lining the wide road leading into the city began to pack down. Men and women moved quickly but with practice, rolling down brightly coloured fabrics and stacking their wares into boxes and sacks. Shoppers tightened their hoods and started to leave. It was all orderly done, children being picked up by their parents and no one hurrying or looking overly worried.

For Vacuo, sandstorms must have been as common as heavy rainstorms in other Kingdoms. It wasn't much difference in Atlas when a blizzard was on its way, except that the bells were automated sirens, and the TVs would warn of it days in advance.

It was their cue to leave as well.

/-/

From within their hotel room, the sandstorm was a strangely enticing thing to watch. It wasn't beautiful by any means – the sand whipped across the city so violently that it was as much horizontal as diagonal. Curtains and flags whipped and flapped violently, while little piles of dust collected at the bottom of windowsills and drifted down through tiny cracks into the room to form little heaps.

Inside, they were protected, warm and provided some hot wine, cheese and fruit by the hotel owner that Qrow had initially declared posh nonsense before tasting it. Now, he was lounging on some cushions he'd set up by the balcony, watching the sand whip by with his feet up on the back of a chair.

"I've always liked storms," he said suddenly. "Back in the tribe, they meant an easy day in by a hot fire. No one wanted to move around much, which meant less shit for me and Ray to put up with."

"What kind of shit?" Jaune asked, curious despite himself.

"Bullying. Hazing." He laughed. "They always called it training, and I guess it was in a way. You learned to fight back for what you wanted to keep. It toughened us up. It was a nightmare at first, though. Being on the bottom rung."

"Were you born into the tribe?"

"Honestly. I've no idea. Far back as I can remember we were kids there, but I don't know if we were from the tribe or if we were just babes stolen by them. Hard to say. With names like this, you don't have much to go on. Either way, we grew up there. Shitty place to grow up but it was the only home we knew. How about you?"

He supposed Qrow and the others must have been curious. He'd always been so cagey about his past, more out a fear of revealing something than any real need for secrecy.

"I grew up in a normal family. A mother, a father and a couple of sisters. Boring life if I'm honest with you. Like most kids, I kept changing what I wanted to be, dedicating myself to nothing, lazing around. By the time I was sixteen, I decided I wanted to be a huntsman, and everyone laughed in my face. You can't start at sixteen, they said. Huntsmen are trained for years."

"Wait." Qrow sat up. "Are you serious?" Jaune nodded, and the man shook his head. "Holy crap. I always figured you were some child prodigy. You were really a nobody?"

"Worse than a nobody. I didn't even have my aura unlocked. Long story short, I was weak and pathetic, but I found teammates to look after and train me." He sighed angrily. "Then they died. And if I'd been less of a burden, maybe they wouldn't have."

"Shit. Jaune, I-"

"It's fine." He smiled. A real smile. "It's been ages, Qrow. I'm over it. I've…" It hurt to admit it. "I've moved on. Emerald helped, as did you guys and having somewhere to settle down. Even Ironwood helped by giving me a purpose for a while. Raven was the first to try, funnily enough."

"Yeah?" Qrow looked pleased by the news, or maybe relieved. "I'm glad to hear she still has some good left in her. Guess that explains why you were so willing to trust her, too. Well, I can't fault that." Qrow stood suddenly, downing his wine. "It's getting way too heavy in here. You want to hit that bar?"

Jaune looked out the window. "In this?"

"There's people moving down there. No one wants to be cooped up."

There were, in fact, people still moving around in the sandstorm, Jaune found as he and Qrow stood in the sheltered eave of the hotel's entrance. It was set back into the wall, and now the odd construction made sense, as people could huddle under it for cover, and the brightly painted green door wouldn't be worn away by the constant barrage.

None of the people about were staying still. They ran quickly from cover to cover, clutching brown cloaks around their heads and shoulders. Caught either late arriving or just wanting to get somewhere, they made a zig-zag path across the streets, using the natural wind barriers created by the corners of buildings and mouths of alleyways to catch their breath.

The two of them didn't stand out joining them. Stepping out, they fought the harsh wind for a brief moment, struggling to get their cloaks under control, but once they had the measure of the sandstorm, it wasn't hard to doggedly walk through it. Jaune kept his eyes squinted tight and head turned so the back of his head took the brunt of it. Following Qrow, they hurried along and soon joined a train of a few others, all congregating on one place – the local bar. Carmine had been right about the party, it seemed. Even before they arrived, the loud sound of music and a place packed beyond capacity managed to reach over the howling wind.

A pair of bouncers stood inside of the doors and opened and closed them swiftly, allowing the screaming wind in for only a second before wrestling the doors shut. Tatty cloaks stood in a huge pile to the left, with no effort put into organising them. It was clear adding their own would mean a free-for-all later, with everyone leaving with the first cloak they could grab. For Qrow, that didn't seem an issue, but Jaune simply pulled the hood of his down and let it rest over his shoulders. The bouncers stopped them entering with hands over their chests.

"Shake down."

Qrow raised an eyebrow. "For what, money?"

"Sand." the local said with a roll of his eyes. Qrow noticed the veritable pile of sand they were stood in and made an understanding noise before shaking his arms and legs, patting himself off. More sand rained down, joining the pile that one of the bouncers scooped to the side with a flat-ended rake. Jaune did the same, and they were allowed in after.

The bar was heaving. Realistically, it could fit maybe a hundred people but there had to be closer to three hundred in it now. He'd seen clubs less packed in Vale. The bar was trapped behind an ocean of people, while the tables were long since taken, and jealously guarded. Ten staff worked behind the bar, a loud flurry of shouted orders, lien held out and trays of booze being handed out to grasping hands. Loud music played from a raised stage where a band was belting out classics, but the dance floor was taken up by more people standing and drinking.

"Whoah." Qrow said. "Carmine wasn't having us on when she said they like to party when a storm hits. Guess we're not the only ones bored stupid in hotels."

There wasn't much else for people to do. Those with families might have stayed home with them and played boardgames, but the storm had even impacted the CCT and would probably be robbing some places of electricity until morning. In the wake of that, it wasn't hard to imagine people going to their local bar to wile the time away with good drink and company.

"I'll go to the bar," Qrow offered. "What do you want."

Jaune pushed some bills into his hand. "Get a bottle. Maybe two. Who knows when how long it'll take to push to the front again."

"I like your style!" Qrow shouted back over the loud noise and conversation. "Back soon!" He waded into the mass of bodies, squirming his way to the front with no regard for orderly queuing or angry comments. Typical Branwen, Jaune thought with a grin. Raven would have done the same.

Moving out the way of newcomers coming in through the doors – and away from the brief gusts of powerful wind when they opened – he found a quiet alcove by a wall. The wall had been built with a wooden platform sticking out around stomach height, forming sort of a bar around the outer wall. Not enough for anyone to be behind, but a few inches, enough to place a drink on or lean against. Jaune rested his elbow on it to claim them some space, swept his sandy hair from his brow and surveyed the crowd.

If Carmine was in here, she wasn't standing out. Then again, few people were. Those in the know had probably come earlier to claim tables before the masses arrived, and it wasn't hard to imagine Carmine being at one with her allies. There might even be other members of Crown there.

Jaune wasn't sure he wanted to meet them, still nervous of a Semblance that could control a person's mind. That really sounded too dangerous to exist. Then again, Raven's was no different in terms of raw versatility.

While Carmine wasn't easy to spot, Bertilak was. He stood head and shoulders above most of the people there, and his eyes were fixed on Jaune's as he made his way across the back of the bar, moving through people and steering them out the way with his large hands. The man's eyes darted to the bar. Jaune's followed, wondering if Bertilak was tyring to judge where Qrow was, or if another member of Crown was there. Either way, Jaune moved his elbow aside, making room for the surly man to slide in alongside him.

"Did Carmine send you?" Jaune asked.

"No." Bertilak replied in a bitten-off tone. "That bitch is deeper in, off by the back wall with a table. Said to invite you and your buddy if you came in." He cut off suddenly. "That's not why I'm here. You're rich."

Jaune's eyebrows rose. "I suppose I am."

"You're strong, too."

"It has been said…"

"I don't give a damn what has been said!" Bertilak snapped. "I've judged it for myself. I need money. I need a lot of money, the kind you can throw around like change but that means a lot to someone like me." He leaned forward. "Hire me."

"For what?"

"I don't care what! Just pay me."

Someone else might have been intimidated but Jaune held the much bigger man's glare, returning it in kind. Grudgingly, Bertilak backed down. Only when he did would Jaune speak. "Most people would want to know why and what they are paying someone for. And most people would want to know what they are being paid for. You don't know what we're doing here."

"I don't care." Bertilak said in a quieter voice.

"What about Crown?"

"I'm with them for money. Desperate times. Their plans, their… ideology." The word sounded off and forced from the man. "It's not mine. Some of the shit they do…" He trailed off. "I don't want it."

Jaune checked Qrow's position. He had only just reached the bar. "You want out?"

Bertilak nodded.

"That's a tall ask right now. We're working with Crown for information and hiring you away from them would be a surefire way to piss them off. It's not in our best interests." And he wouldn't be intimidated. "I'm sorry."

"You won't want to be working with them when you hear what they're planning."

"Like I said, it's not our-"

"You're a friend of that Rashem guy, right? They plan to off him."

Jaune fell silent. Noticing, Bertilak smiled grimly and continued.

"You'd think they'd want him on side with how good he is for Vacuo, but that's a problem. They need the people unhappy. Angry. The only good thing that can happen to the city needs to come from them. That's the way they want it. RTE is good for Vacuo and it's good for the current Government. It's a big win for them and a sign the city is on the up. That's a problem when Jax and Gillian want the people looking back on past glory, not future opportunity."

People were motivated not only by the promise of more but the absence of risk. The more you had to lose, the less you were likely to act out. If Vacuo had descended into worse poverty, however, then it would have had a lot of people prepared to raise the flag of revolution. Jaune groaned into his fist, closing his eyes tight.

"I don't know the specifics, but it involves Jax and his Semblance. They take him and turn the company around, make it worse than the SDC ever was. Then, Crown raises up to overthrow the tyrannical yolk of both the current government and RTE, killing your friend in the process and supplanting him. Using his money to bankroll the monarchy's rise to power and a new golden age for the Kingdom."

Mind control. He'd been right to say that was too powerful to let be. He hadn't even considered that Rashem and Crown might butt heads. In his mind, he'd assumed what was good for Vacuo was good for Crown. Apparently not.

"Money is their biggest issue at the moment. Crown is operating some damn shady stuff to get as much of it as possible. Lines have been crossed." Bertilak scowled. "My lines. They say it's a necessary evil. Ha. Maybe they believe it. Me? I'm here for money. I see it for what it is. Evil."

"What kind of evil?"

"Payment first." Bertilak said. "And protection. They're dangerous."

"How does half a million sound?" Jaune asked impatiently. Judging from the feral smile, it was enough. "Now tell me. I'm already not letting Rashem be killed, but depending on how bad the rest is, I may-"

"They kidnap and smuggle children as slaves." Bertilak's whispered words drove the air out of Jaune's lungs. "Some as young as eight. That's where the line was drawn for me. Necessary evil, they say." He sneered. "I bought into the promise of being rich, but also the idea that it'd be better for Vacuo. Place used to be a shithole where kids died on the streets. Now, it's better, but Gillian and Jax would see it brought back low just so they can be the ones to drag it into the light. I don't buy that."

"You won't have to." Jaune said, eyes burning with rage. "Trust me on that."


I haven't read the book (I may try it out) but looking through the wiki, I am amazed that in a world where any Semblance is possible as far as your imagination can go, just how many are recycled. I assume it's not Meyer's fault as he would have been told what to write, but Bertilak's is basically Cinder's, and Gillian's is essentially identical to Jaune's.

Like, you could have anything. Anything at all. Maybe it'll be a clever nod to the "royal line" all being related like the Hapsburgs, and that it's a sign that Jaune is of royal blood, but Bertilak's Semblance and design just smack of being a bunch of already used characters stuck together. Cardin's weapon, Russel's hair and colour scheme, Cinder's Semblance.

Maybe I need to read it to see the differences, but the wiki just makes them sound uninspired. Also weirdly inconsistent. He's apparently racist against the faunus but then admits to liking Velvet and Sun and helping them out. He is against huntsman academies but has no issue with any of the huntsmen or huntresses from CFVY, and often refers to himself as a huntsman.


Next Chapter: 21st November

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur